Inquisitor Captain
by KyliaQuilor
Summary: Valeria Morn, Inquisitor-Captain of the Karelist Inquisition is a loyal servant of Church and Crown, a hunter of their enemies. But when a spell gone awry sends her to Thedas, she's left adrift in an unknown land, with a strange mark on her hand, a hole in reality and a stunning, dark-haired Seeker she can't stop thinking about - and with no idea what to do about any of it.
1. Waking Up Chained

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age, Thedas or any of the characters or concepts contained therein. I do own the character Valeria Morn and the world from which she comes - insofar as I can 'own' any fictional characters/concepts without a real legally meaningful copyright.

This is an OC!Inquisitor story - ultimately, of course, all Inquisitors are OCs, but rather than going with a standard Trevelyan/Lavellan/Cadash/Adaar Inquisitor, I'm taking a character from an original story I'm slowly working on and dropping her into Thedas as the Inquisitor. The particular details of how exactly Valeria ended up in Thedas from her world and was then in position to interfere with Corypheus's orb will be explained as they come in the story - at the start, even Valeria doesn't remember all the details herself, thanks to Nightmare sealing away the memories, as he does.

I am always open to (polite) criticism of my characterization, presentation and in general, the writing. I won't always agree with your critique, but I'll always listen, and try to take it into account where appropriate.

Thanks to GraphiteGirl and personnongrata for beta-reading this chapter.

Inquisitor-Captain

By Kylia

Chapter 1: Waking Up Chained

Cold.

That was Valeria's first sensation, as consciousness leaked back into her.

The air, the floor she was lying on, the feeling of hundreds of tiny needles prickling on the inside of her skin - all cold. The low craving for the mist had already begun. _When did I last use it?_

But that wasn't all that was cold - so too were the shackles around her wrist.

Shackles.

Shackles meant she was a prisoner, which meant the hard stone underneath her was the floor of a cell, presumably. Slowly, Valeria tried to sit up, to open her eyes. She didn't manage it, feeling like it was too much effort. She took several deep breaths as she continued to come back to herself.

She felt sore, all over, as if she'd run a great distance the day before, or gotten involved in a fierce unarmed fight, but the soreness was the least of her problems. There was a throbbing, but low-intensity ache in her hand, as if she'd been stabbed there, then healed.

Over and over and over again.

 _Perhaps it has._ Members of the Karelist Inquisition did not often go up against enemies who took prisoners - except for the purpose of interrogation, extracting information. As Valeria would have never told an enemy of the Church or Crown anything they wanted to know, whoever it was that had shackled her had probably tried torture. Injury succeeded by healing was an excellent way to prolong the process.

 _But why just my left hand?_

However, two bigger questions loomed at the forefront of her mind: how had she become a prisoner? And by whom was she held?

She thought back, trying to recall her most recent memories. To her dismay, she had no idea how she could have ended up here.

She'd been in the Inquestran borderlands, the technically still disputed borderlands between that province of the Kingdom and the Aurellian Commonwealth, leading a whole squad of Inquisitors in the arrest of a coven of renegade mages and witches known to be meddling in illegal magics, especially suspected of meddling in dimensional magics.

They'd had some sort of artifact, an ancient elven relic, and she'd been trying to disenchant it, to undo whatever the coven had done to awaken it.

And then - nothing. The next memory after that, as she made the effort to think past the constant prickling inside her skin that tried to throw off her concentration, was of **green.** A vast green expanse. She'd been running up stairs, a baying, slavering pack of Drakewolves behind her, a woman, reaching out her arm.

Then she woke up here.

Confusion and fear dueled in her, but despite her craving, Valeria managed to clamp down on the feelings. She was a prisoner. She she didn't know how that had come to be. If she let that fact work her into a terror, she'd be easy pickings for whatever interrogator came in to try to crack her.

She tried to open her eyes once more. This time she succeed, and pushed herself up into a kneeling position. She was in a cell far too large to have been made for holding one person, lit by several flicking torches. Arrayed around her were four men wearing breastplates, of all things. No modern army wore such armor. Certain professional mercenary outfits, ones that handled purely melee encounters, and perhaps some bodyguards, might prefer such armor.

 _Well, the stubborn peoples of the High Moors, might_. The tribes of the Glass Desert too were limited enough to use such old tools of war, but this was not the Glass Desert, and no tribesman wore metal armor.

But this place was cold enough to be the High Moors... _How could I have ended up here, then?_ And who there would have need of a captive Inquisitor? If here even was _there_.

Each guard reacted to her movements, drawing their swords in near-unison, with practiced, efficient motions. Even armed, she wouldn't relish crossing blades with these men.

But she wasn't armed, unsurprisingly. They'd even taken her longcoat, leaving her with her white shirt and pants and boots, but they'd been designed with Kantrian summers in mind, not whatever weather she was in -

 **PAIN!**

The dull ache in her left hand suddenly awoke. Red hot lances of pain spiked up her arm, spreading throughout her body. She bit her lip against the agony of it as she looked down at her left palm. It glowed with a crackling green energy, a sort of magic she'd never seen before.

Valeria tasted blood. She let out a low groan after spitting the blood out, wiping at her lip. The pain started to subside just a touch but before she could truly appreciate that, the door to the cell burst open. Three people she didn't recognize entered. The first one barged in and came right at her.

She was a tall, striking and dark haired woman in yet another suit of breastplate - this one under a tabard emblazoned with a symbol of an eye with lines or rays, coming out of it. Valeria could not place it, leaving her with yet more questions. Taking a breath, she tried to center herself again, but this time she failed, her attention pulled away by that prickling, that low craving that only presaged something _worse_.

 _I used the mist the day before the arrest. How long has it been since then?_ She felt hungry, now that she realized it, but not especially thirsty.

Despite her distraction, Valeria managed to speak carefully, without wavering, though with less calm serenity than she'd have liked.

"I hope you know what you've done, imprisoning a member of the Inquisition. The Church does not look kindly on it, and even the crown isn't a fan of -"

The dark haired woman grabbed Valeria's left wrist, her grip too tight and too strong for Valeria to break free. But the words that came out of the woman's mouth - harsh, angry, half-shouted - were completely incomprehensible to her.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask that again," Valeria replied, managing a mostly cool delivery, as she ceased pulling against the woman's grip. Whatever language that was was not only unintelligible, but completely unknown. Valeria knew Kantrian, Tessoi, and Kolkyan fluently, and spoke a smattering of a dozen others. After years of living in Kantrias, she recognized nearly every language on Bayetz, and a few from the continent of Guyas.

This was none of them.

The woman said something, again in the same language. Valeria shook her head, trying to get across with mime that she didn't understand.

"I don't understand you," this time Valeria spoke in Kolkyan, but to no avail. She tried again in Tessoi, but the woman didn't seem to understand her anymore than Valeria.

At least her efforts resulted in the armored woman saying the same words, slower and slightly more calmly, in another language. Then a third. To no effect.

Valeria shrugged. The other two stepped clearly into the full might of the torches. A redhead woman wore a hooded cloak over chainmail, no symbols or sigils on either - but she moved like someone well practiced with the long daggers at her belt. The man dressed almost like a vagabond, a long walking stick slung over his back. It was not his baldness, but his ears that drew her attention. Pointed, elongated.

An elfblood.

Valeria blinked, then looked again.

Not just pointed, not just slightly elongated.

Fully pointed, fully elongated, pulling away from the sides of his head a bit. This was no scion of humans with the blood of elves.

This was...

The impossible.

An actual, living, breathing elf before her. Despite the entire race having been vanished, presumed extinct, for centuries.

"Where in the name of the gods am I?" Valeria's throat felt tight as she tried to comprehend what was going on, where she was, as the redhead and the elf tried several more languages - each unknown, incomprehensible and completely alien.

 _I should recognize at least one, if I anywhere in the known world._ But...

This was an elf. An Elf. No elves were known in the known world, even if they had been assumed to be native to Bayetz...

 _The_ _ **were**_ _meddling with dimensional magics. Something that cast me through the shadow or ephemeral planes, back out here, wherever here is. Somewhere else on the world._ Bayetzian civilization had only explored so much of the world, too focused on internal conflicts for most of its history. She couldn't be on Guyas, or anywhere on Kholesun that Kantrian or Iomedian explorers had been. She could be on that great western continent, far enough inland that her people were unknown, but...

 _If I don't know where I am, know where Bayetz is, can I even get home?_ Was Kantrias lost to her forever? The Church? Her fellow Inquisitors?

 _Kyseen._

Unbidden, her thoughts started to drift to the assassin and spy in the service of the Crown that she'd worked with and at cross purposes to on and off for years. How they'd finally started... _something_.

Before Valeria could ponder exactly what that meant, how she felt about -

More pain. The energy on her hand crackled again, and it ripped through her. She doubled over, managing to pull her wrist from the dark haired woman's grasp as she nearly collapsed to the ground again, unable to even attempt to hold back the small cry that escaped her lips this time. It was _worse_ than being stabbed in the couldn't even give it words. Just -

Pain.

It passed after several moments and she looked back at her three would be interrogators, who seemed as perplexed and frustrated as her.

"Valeria," Valeria said, pointing to herself, speaking loudly. The motion was awkward with the chains, but she managed it.

"Cassandra," the dark woman finally said, her voice still holding an edge of fury, pointing to herself. She pointed to the redhead and the elf in turn - "Leliana. Solas." Now she had names for the faces, but they were no closer to understanding each other.

The elf - Solas - said something to the other two. They immediately looked dubious, but Leliana nodded. Solas stepped forward and raised his hand, which suddenly started to glow with a pale white light. A mage - or perhaps a witch? A witch might dress in such vagabondly fashion, but perhaps things worked differently here.

Valeria held up her hands, right palm out, gesturing for him to stop. He got the idea and pulled up short. He gestured from his mouth towards her, then from her towards his ear.

"A translation spell?" Such magics were difficult to get right, and they usually only lasted a few hours at a time, but if that was what he intended..

It would do, for now.

Valeria nodded and he came up to her. She closed her eyes against the glow and felt him touch his hand to her forehead. For a split second, her head felt full, like her brain was trying to burst out of her skull.

"...be able to understand me now," Solas said as he stepped back.

"It would seem so," Valeria replied, but the words that came out of her mouth were not Kantrian. "Who are you? Where am I, and why am I prisoner? What crime do you think I committed?"

"What crime? _What crime?!_ " Cassandra burst out, almost lunging at Valeria but Leliana held her back.

"Hold, Cassandra. We need her." The dark haired woman made a disgusted 'ugh' sound in response, but complied with Leliana's words. "You are in Haven," Leliana said, looking at Valeria.

"Where?" Valeria knew a small town in rural Reynac by that name, but this was clearly not there. "What country? What continent? Last I knew, I was on the border of Kantrias and Aurelia, then I was somewhere green, running from a pack of drakewolves, and then I woke up here. With no idea about _anything_ in between." Valeria took a deep breath, failing to center herself again, but at least she was able to calm down before she started talking fast enough to work herself into a babbling rant.

"And now I'm hearing languages I've never heard in my life and seeing a member of a race that should be extinct!" She gestured at Solas, her shackles making the motion awkward. _Can I get these off please?_

"Extinct?" Solas's tone was academic, curious, rather than a real reaction to the notion that his people might be extinct elsewhere.

"No one on Bayetz has seen a full-blooded elf in hundreds of years," Valeria explained, able to keep her tone calm once more.

"Haven is a village in the Frostback mountains, between Ferelden and Orlais," said Leliana. Valeria just gave her a blank look. "In Thedas?" Valeria shook her head. "Well, I've never heard of Kantrias, Aurelia or Bayetz either," Leliana added.

"I was afraid of that." _Worry about what that means later, worry about how to get home later. Worry later._ "What did I do to be imprisoned, and what is this... this?" She brandished left hand, the glowing green mark on her palm.

"You expect us to believe you are from some - from some distant, unknown land!?" Cassandra demanded. "That you somehow arrived at the Conclave without knowing where it is, that you were the only survivor of its destruction, but you don't know anything about that?!" Cassandra pointed angrily at the mark, scoffing.

"The Conclave?" It couldn't be a Karleist or Pather Conclave, but obviously it was some sort of meeting if importance. "What is that? What destroyed it? I don't know what it is, so why would I-?"

The green energy in her hand glowed brighter, spiking pain up her arm until she was once again crying out.

"Rakisharit, Lady Lifegiver, deliver me from this agony," Valeria prayed as the pain ripped through her. The goddess of healing, life and death did not answer her prayer in some obvious fashion, but the pain subsided more quickly than before.

"We don't have time for interrogations," Leliana said to Cassandra.

"I concur, Lady Cassandra," Solas added. "The Breach continues to grow, as does that mark. It will kill her if nothing is done soon."

 _This thing will_ _ **kill**_ _me?_ Valeria tensed, inhaling sharply, shallowly. She did not fear death, but she did not welcome it, especially not painful death.

Cassandra made another disgusted 'ugh' sound, then nodded. "Then the rest will have to wait," she confirmed. She pulled a key from a pouch at her belt and unlocked the shackles from Valeria's wrists. "I do not know if I believe your story, but if you die, we'll have no answers, and no way to close the Breach, if your mark can even do that." She turned back to Leliana and Solas. "Go to the forward camp, I will follow with her." Leliana and Solas nodded, hurrying from the cell, as Cassandra took Valeria's hands and pulled her to her feet.

"What is this Breach? What is going on?" Valeria stood, somewhat shaky on her feet, but she managed to walk without aid. Cassandra led her out of the cell and up a flight of stairs into a grand hall of some sort, the four guards from her cell following her.

"It will be better if I just show you," Cassandra explained. As they walked towards the double doors at the far end of the hall, Cassandra did offer a bit of context: "The Conclave was an attempt by Divine Justinia to negotiate an end to the war between the mages and the templars. It was the last hope of a peaceful way to restore order to Thedas."

"So, you think I destroyed this peace conference? That's absurd. I hunt down heretics and..."

Cassandra pushed open the doors and Valeria trailed off as she saw a massive green _hole_ in the sky. Rocks covered in green flame raining from it into the valley below, a valley nestled in snowy mountains that she could see all around on the horizon.

Valeria shivered as the cold open air hit her. At least it wasn't very windy.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra explained as Valeria stared at what could only be a massive tear in the very fabric of reality itself. "It appeared at the same time as the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. You were the only survivor found in the ruins. The scouts who found you said that you fell out of a rift from the fade."

 _That would explain why they think I did this._ Had something like this happened in Kantrias, Church and Crown alike would have blamed a lone survivor, at least until more information could be gathered.

"Demons have been falling from it, or escaping from smaller rifts constantly for three days now. Every time it grows, so does that mark on your hand. It - and you - might be the only chance we have of closing it. And unless we act, it may grow until it swallows the world."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Whatever else she was, wherever she was, Valeria was an Inquisitor-Captain of the Karelist Church. Karel preached Order above all, and Demons of any kind were a threat to that Order. Kharia Sul's teachings preached against the dangerous magics that played with the very fabric of reality, the kinds of magics that had to be involved in this.

 _The kinds of magics that coven was playing with._ There had to be a link there, somehow, in some way.

 _The Gods would want me to see this through, see this Breach ended, whatever the cause, whoever is affected._

"Though - do you have my longcoat?" Valeria added. "I assume you took it along with my weapons, and I assume you don't trust me enough for the latter yet, but I'm not exactly dressed for this weather." As if to punctuate her words, she shivered again, but that was as much from her craving for the mist as the cold itself.

"Leliana took all your belongings when you were found, to examine them in order to determine your identity," Cassandra explained. She tossed a thick woolen cloak at Valeria. "For now, use this."

"This it will do," Valeria agreed. "Lead on, Cassandra."

* * *

Several minutes, a mass of accusatory stares, a promise of a 'fair trial', and a dropped bridge later, Valeria at least had a sword. It was a broadsword of a style that had to be nearly as outdated as all that breastplate armor, but it was a sword, even if it was a heavier weapon than she was used to.

It was better than going unarmed against the demon that rose up to attack her while Cassandra fought another. Valeria easily ducked under the sluggish swing from the creature, then swung her own blade in response. She underestimated the difficulty of an unfamiliar blade, and the sword nearly fell out of her hands as it passed out of the demon. As it was, the sword stuck into the ice a bit, leaving her momentarily weaponless. Fortunately, her blow sent the demon staggering back a pace, giving her an opening.

Stepping back, Valeria crossed her hands at the wrist as the demon charged, reaching out to the gods.

"Visare, Karel, Kharia Sul, hear me and expel this foul creature from this world!" She flung her right arm out at the demon and a ray of golden light flowed from her hand and into the demon. But it did not vanish, banished to whatever extradimensional realm it called home. Instead, it was stunned, standing in place.

Valeria did not have time to question what had happened - she pulled her blade from the ice and, using both hands, swung her sword into the demon's head, destroying its physical form as it collapsed and then faded from existence entirely.

"Drop the sword!" Cassandra barked at her, leveling her own blade at Valeria.

"Gladly," Valeria let it clatter on the ice between them. "Though you'll need to defend me against more of those demons between here and our destination in this demon infested valley."

Cassandra inhaled sharply, "You used magic against that demon. You're a mage. You do not need a sword - why did you have one with you?! Where was your staff?"

Valeria blinked. "I'm not a mage!" Despite all her efforts at self control, she felt herself crack as she shouted at Cassandra - the stress of the craving, the lack of food, the pain in her hand, her confusion and the impending prospect of her death at the hands of a strange mark made of unknown magic. The prospect of dying here in an unknown land, with the possibility of never seeing Kantrias, another Karelist or... Kyseen ever again even if she made it through this. All of it was combining to break her iron will in ways it hadn't broken in years. "I channeled the power of my gods to cast that spell, not the aether!"

"Your gods?!" Cassandra seemed as confused as Valeria felt. "Do you follow the Old Gods of Tevinter? They are not-"

"Tevinter? I don't know what that is. I follow the gods of the Karelist Pantheon. I am their servant. In return for furthering their will in this world, I can channel their power into magic. Not that my magic is working right. That spell should have banished the demon, not stunned it. Whatever it is your problem with me or magic is, right now, isn't there a gaping hole in the fabric of reality that demands our attention!?"

Cassandra took a breath, then nodded. "It does." She sheathed her sword. "Why did you not use your magic to defend yourself with fire, or force?"

"I am only trained in magics that ward against or dispel other magics, or banish or repel demons, spirits and the like. Nothing damaging. Hence my sword and revolver." If this continent was as backward as it seemed, her revolver - a weapon that had only been invented a few years ago - would be far ahead of what these people had. Assuming these people even had gunpowder to begin with.

 _Of course, I can't actually **make** more bullets._ If she got her revolver back, she'd have to carefully husband them. Even if she could make gunpowder, she didn't have a clue how to make or use fulminated quicksilver to create the explosive caps on the ends of the bullets, or how to actually _make_ the bullets.

And she didn't know how to make gunpowder. Not the recipe - the ingredients, yes. The method? Not even a little bit.

"Then take the sword with you. You are right. The valley is filled with demons. I cannot fight them all and ensure your safety as we go."

"I really hope you have _my_ sword at this forward camp of yours," Valeria muttered.

* * *

When she saw Solas again, he was in the midst of fighting more demons, blasting ice at the demons coming out of... well, a smaller version of the Breach in the air before them. Though she and Cassandra had fought quite a few demons on the way here, this group was far larger. Several guards were also fighting, as was a beardless dwarf with an elaborate crossbow.

Her spells of banishment were still not working properly, but stunning the demons would allow the others to make short work of them. _I can't keep channeling like this for much longer, not so much so fast._ The magic was taking a greater toll on her than it should, as if it took more effort to draw on the gods' power. Was it something about the Breach, or her craving for the mist, or just pain and hunger and distraction? _Or all of the above?_

"Kharia Sul, I beseech, grant me your magic, Visare, grant me your might, Vitralia, grant me your will," Valeria murmured the prayer as she ran towards the demons, Cassandra right behind her. Thrusting her arms out towards the greatest concentration of demons, golden light flowed from them yet again, hitting most of the demons.

There was a momentary confusion as everyone realized their foes weren't moving, but only momentary. Within seconds, every demon had been destroyed, and Valeria approached the smaller breach, trying to get a good look at it as if shifted in the air -

She staggered and nearly hit the ground, suddenly feeling lightheaded. _Hunger._ That one was easy to place. When had she last eaten? She'd been unconscious for three days, but what about before then? She'd eaten - she'd...

She had no idea.

Solas caught her by her shoulder, keeping her on her feet. Once she was stabilized, he grabbed her left wrist and aimed the mark at the rift. Green energy flowed from the mark, from her, and into the rift. More pain spiked up her arm but less than any time previous.

And then the rift was gone.

"So it does do that then," Valeria said, swaying slightly. She stuck the sword in the snowy ground, using it as a makeshift cane as Solas stepped away from her. "What in the name of the gods happened in the time that I cannot remember?" She spoke quietly, as much to herself as anyone else. She straightened up as best she could, looking around.

"Perhaps not the best time, but does anyone have have any food?" She took a deep sucking, breath, trying to calm down a little.

"What, did the Chantry not feed you while you were unconscious?" the dwarf said, slinging his crossbow over his back. The thing seemed to be almost as long as he was tall. _I've never seen a crossbow so elaborate_. Then again, she'd only seen crossbows in the hands of hunters and assassins who needed its silence when set against a musket or pistol. Without waiting for an answer, the dwarf produced a stick of jerky from a pouch and handed it to her.

"I made sure you were given broth and honey, but that is only so much," Solas told her. He pulled a vial made of thick glass from his belt and handed it to her. "Drink this." The liquid inside was red.

"Healing potion?" Valeria asked, and Solas nodded.

She drank it, handing him the vial and felt some of the soreness from the fighting fade. She ate the jerky in seconds, not bothering to taste as she consumed it. "How exactly does this," she held up her left hand, palm outward, "close these smaller Breaches?"

"I am not entirely sure," Solas admitted. "But whatever magic opened the Breach and spawned these rifts gave you that mark. They are linked. I theorized the one could close the others. It would seem I was right. At least so far. It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Which is a good thing, because I was thinking we'd be ass-deep in demons forever," the dwarf observed. Despite the gravity of the situation, Valeria couldn't help but think what Kyseen would say to that - something about ass deep for a dwarf not being all that deep, perhaps.

 _No. Not now._ But she couldn't - couldn't banish the thought of her... lover? Girlfriend? What had they even _been_?

"Varric Tethras," The dwarf introduced himself. Despite the weather, his shirt was open several buttons, and he had quite an impressive amount of chest hair. "Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwanted tagalong." _Dwarves, at least, should still exist._ Not that she had much experience with them, and what she had was with surface exiles and their children.

"Valeria Morn, Inquisitor-Captain of the Karelist Inquisition and apparently a suspect for mass murder." Valeria took another breath and pulled the sword out of the ground. She felt better. At least for the moment. Not well, not good, but she could keep going. She had to, after all.

"Karelist Inquisition?" Varric shook his head. "Can't say I've ever heard of that. But I doubt you blew up the Conclave - you don't have the right look."

"I would have had no reason to. I'm not even from Thedas."

"No shit?"

"It would seem so." Solas interjected. "She neither spoke nor understood any language have ever heard of. Were it not for my spell, we would still be pantomiming."

"You claim the mantle of Inquisitor?" Cassandra demanded, and Valeria shook her head.

"Inquisitor- _Captain_ , if you please. I don't know what the word means here, but in Kantrias, I am merely one officer of many in the Inquisition."

Cassandra inhaled sharply. "You really are not from Thedas, are you? You have no idea what's going on, what you've stumbled into."

"Not even remotely," Valeria agreed.

"The Inquisition of old was an organization that in the days before the Chantry, rooted out blood mages and heretics, restored order in the chaotic times after the fall of the Tevinter Imperium."

 _Blood mages?_ That sounded unpleasant.

"It is a name that has a certain... weight in some circles," Cassandra said after a moment. "I was startled to hear you use it."

"Ah," Valeria didn't really understand, but she didn't have time to care about that. Or the energy.

"What does an Inquisitor-Captain do when they're at home?"

"Hunt down heretics, pagans and renegade witches and mages, mostly," Valeria explained. "Other Inquisitors had other duties - protection of important clergy, or rooting out corruption within the Church, for example." The Inquisition, for various reasons, was required to wear many different hats.

"Sounds positively delightful. You're a templar, basically."

"I wouldn't know enough to say." She took another breath. "And though I really would appreciate more time to rest, we need to close this breach before this mark kills me, right?"

"We do," Cassandra agreed. "We can continue to talk on our way up the mountain if you insist on chattering, Varric."

"Oh, you know me, Seeker. I love to talk, whatever I'm doing." Cassandra just made another disgusted 'ugh' and turned, starting to head up the path, walking quickly.

"As long as we're not fighting, we may as well keep talking," Valeria observed, setting off after her, Solas and Varric right behind.

"Let's start with how you ended up in Thedas, if you're from some distant continent? That's got to be an interesting story right there."

"It would be, if I remembered it. I was arresting a renegade coven. Then I was here, more or less. I don't remember much of anything in between."

"Is that what you told the Seeker?"

"Once we could actually understand each other," Valeria confirmed.

"Well, that was your first mistake. You've got to spin a story," Varric advised.

"I don't lie," Valeria said flatly. Not that she _could_ anyway, which had rather limited their options those times when she'd been working alongside Kyseen, but they'd learned to play to their strengths.

This? Fighting through horde of demons? Undoing powerful and dangerous magic? _This_ was her strength.

* * *

The continued effort to get the site of the Conclave - a holy site of some significance to whatever the religion here was called the Temple of Sacred Ashes - meant fighting through still more demons. Again and again, in small groups of two or three at a time, they fought demons of two types: half-ethereal ghostly beings, which Solas called 'Wraiths' and larger, slow-moving and clumsy beasts that seemed to be made of tattered robes and shadows imaginatively called 'Shades'.

 _Perhaps these are actually some form of undead, and that's why the spell isn't working right?_ Valeria didn't have the time or equipment to actually check. If they _were_ undead, her spell shouldn't have even stunned them.

But as they fought their way to the forward camp, Valeria stopped using her magic. Still hungry, still craving the mist, still in pain from the mark on her hand, she needed to conserve her strength. The mortal body was not truly designed to channel divine power. - It took a toll to do it at all, and doing it too much, too frequently was an easy way to put yourself into a coma, or even die.

There would be a greater battle ahead, she was sure, and she'd want to save it for that, rather than these penny-packet bands of enemies. But even they were taking a toll. Battle after battle after battle was a punishing pace she'd rarely faced. Guns had a tendency of making most small-scale battles rather short, if you were able to fire first and hit accurately.

As she could.

The distance gave Varric time to fill her in a bit on what she'd managed to stumble into, though she only understood about half of what he was saying. The rest lacked context and meaning to her. The 'Divine' was some religious leader, of the 'Chantry', which sounded like some sort of Church. The Divine's death in the destruction the Conclave had not only screwed up some kind of peace conference, but also thrown the religious hierarchy into chaos at the worst possible moment.

What made this moment 'the worst' was unclear to her, but both Cassandra and Varric seemed quite firm on this being a terrible moment for a gap in leadership. Solas said little along the way, and Valeria let the other two talk, grabbing onto as much information as she could. She could worry about what it meant later, another time.

Finally, after closing a second rift - this time she managed to get it done without Solas grabbing her wrist - they reached the forward camp. The camp was set up on a bridge, with some tents, various piles and crates of supplies and some tables. Not much, but it seemed to be what they could do in the chaos.

As she passed a crate filled with healing potions, Valeria grabbed several, drinking two immediately, feeling most of the soreness and pain from the battles fade away. The edge of her craving even was taken off, the rush of energy the healing potions gave her letting her ignore it, just a touch.

For just a bit.

 _Gods help me if they don't have Khaltis Root anywhere._

Valeria paused for a breath, then looked ahead to the far end of the camp. Leliana was there, arguing with a man in red and white robes and a boxy-looking hood.

"Chancellor Roderick," Cassandra muttered, barely audible. "If he is still trying to give orders..." another disgusted 'ugh' escaped her lips and she started towards the two. Valeria followed close behind, and she heard Varric and Solas follow, though it sounded as if they were keeping their distance.

"Ah, you've finally arrived," the man said, his voice barely the polite side of a sneer. Leliana's greeting was much less hostile - and she even came bearing gifts.

"I couldn't bring all your possessions, but I thought you'd need these," Leliana produced Valeria's longcoat, still impeccably clean and...

"Oh thank the gods," Valeria took her saber from the redhead first, relinquishing the broadsword she'd been forced to use and fitting the weapon onto her belt. Then she traded the hooded cloak for her coat - even taking the step of putting her arms through the sleeves, unlike her usual habit.

It was just that cold outside.

Valeria inhaled sharply as the familiar weight of the saber at her hip and the coat on her shoulders. _This_ was how an Inquisitor should be garbed, this was how she should be armed. The fact that her pistol wasn't among the things returned to her suggested they didn't realize it was a weapon - unlikely - or they'd test fired it a few times and found out it was quite destructive to the armor everyone used around here. _They may need me, but they don't trust me._

"Thank you," Valeria nodded to Leliana. "Are the rest of my belongings-?" Was her prayer book intact?

"Not content to let the prisoner run free, you're arming her as well, Seeker," The 'Chancellor' cut in. "Have you lost all sense of your duties to the Chantry!? As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!"

"I thought I was promised a trial," Valeria replied, turning to Cassandra, her hand on the hilt of her saber. She'd go down fighting before she let herself be taken to a forgone execution. "And that it was to be done _after_ the Breach was dealt with."

"You were," Cassandra confirmed. "And it is."

"You have no authority to-" the Chancellor tried to cut in, but Cassandra interrupted, raising her voice, tone harsh and contemptuous.

"You have no authority to command me, _Grand Chancellor!_ You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!"

 _Ah._ With that information, it was easy to understand what why this man was trying to assert control, even with patently stupid commands. A small-minded man, in total command of his small world. Probably even good at his job, administering things under other people's leadership.

But now, his entire world was crumbling - his boss dead at a bad time, and demons were raining down from the sky.

This.

This sort of small-minded idiot she could handle. _Don't actually hurt him_ , she reminded herself. Attacking a member of the local clergy, clerk or not, was a bad idea.

"And you are a thug! But at least a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry." Valeria tightened her grip on the hilt of her saber, taking a small step forward as the other argued.

"We serve the Most Holy, as you well know," Leliana reproached him.

"Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter."

"I'm as much a fan of elections as any good Kantrian," Valeria cut in, "But I rather think we don't have time for one right now." She took another step towards him. "I didn't destroy your Conclave, and I didn't kill your Divine-"

"Lies! You were the only one found in the ruins, and that mark on your hand is proof of your guilt!" The Chancellor replied, unwisely getting in her face.

"This mark, you mean? Why don't you take a closer look," She brought her left hand close to his face, then reached under and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him over the table and holding him up - he was on still on the ground, but only just. The others all drew or half-drew their weapons, but Valeria didn't slow down as she drew her sword and pressed it against the man's neck.

"And if you try and stop me from dealing with the Breach and the army of demons you've got raining down from the sky..." She trailed off, letting his imagination do the work as she gave him a brutal glare, one she could practically do in her sleep, ingrained in her training. The Chancellor could only whimper out a response as the front of his robes grew damp.

"Put him down," Cassandra ordered, drawing her sword.

"I wasn't _actually_ going to hurt him. Stupidity isn't actually crime or a sin, and I don't kill the innocent." Valeria dropped the man, who managed to grab onto the table to avoid completely collapsing to the ground as his legs gave out. It was perfect timing, because moments after she dropped the officious bureaucrat, the Breach rumbled and grew, and the mark crackled to life once more, the pain slicing through her focus - she was getting used to it, but it still hurt.

"Now, can we _please_ focus on the giant hole in the sky?" Valeria ground out, teeth gritted.

"Word of advice?" Varric offered, "Assaulting members of the Chantry is _probably_ not the best play."

"I'll keep that in mind if I live through this," Valeria replied flatly. "We don't have time for niceties, or would you like to be overrun by demons?"

"Good point," Varric acknowledged.

"We need to get to the temple," Cassandra said. "We must cut through the rest of the valley and make our way to the ruins from there," She inhaled sharply. "If we muster all of our remaining soldiers-"

"We may not have enough time - if we go through the old tunnels in the mountains, we can get the temple faster - if we send our men as a distraction-"

"We already lost a whole squad of scouts in those tunnels, Leliana," Cassandra cut in. "It's too risky."

"And charging across an open battlefield crawling with demons isn't?" Leliana countered.

"If my vote counts for anything," Valeria added, after a deep breath, "I think we should try the tunnels. I may not even live long enough to get to the temple if we take the long way. And my training is for fighting in smaller encounters, not pitched open battles." She was loathe to just send people in as a distraction, pure fodder, to give her chance at this temple and closing the breach, but it was the best option they had.

Cassandra frowned momentarily, then nodded. "We'll take the tunnels, then." She looked to Leliana, "Bring everyone we have left in the valley. _Everyone_."

* * *

The tunnels turned out to be an old mining complex of some sort, but the small confines suited her perfectly. She still husbanded her magic but took advantage of the space to corner individual demons and deal with them one by one. The enchantments and blessings on her blade worked against the demons, letting her saber hurt them more than it should have otherwise, but not as much as they were supposed to.

She had neither the energy nor the presence of mind left to think about what that meant.

Eventually, they made it out of the tunnel. They closed a rift after facing down two lizardmen-like, thin-limbed demons Solas called 'Terror Demons', which seemed quite apt from the way their screeches made her blood run cold. They even rescued what was left of the squad of scouts, which had been pinned down by the rift and the demons it had spawned.

But finally, they approached the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She could see, just from what was left, that it had once been an impressive structure, in size and grandeur. She saw half intact statues, interspersed with shattered pieces of stained glass windows...

And bodies, still lying, standing or crouching where they'd been burned, their flesh fused with their bones in grotesque fashion.

Unable to help herself, Valeria looked in dismayed awe at the scope of the destruction. "What could possibly do _this_ much destruction?" She knew of no magic that could destroy so large a building so completely. Several dozen mages working together on an earthquake, perhaps, but then where would the flames that still burnt in a few places have come from?

 _I'd say gunpowder in mass quantities could do it, but then why is there a hole in fabric of reality?_

"We can worry about the how when the immediate threat has been dealt with," Cassandra pointed out tersely. "This is where you fell out of the fade. The scouts that found you said they saw a woman in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

"I... remember a woman. Right before waking up in the cell. Everything was green, I was running from a pack of drakewolves... a woman reached out to me..." Valeria trailed off as they approached the center of the blast. There was a deep hole, and a rift partially closed or dormant, glowing faintly, her mark reacting to it.

"We need to get down there," Solas said. "If we close that rift, I believe it will seal the Breach. It was the first, and that makes it the key."

"Let's hope this works like you think, or we're going to have to learn how to fly," Varric mused.

"You made it - thank the Maker!" Leliana said, and Valeria turned to see about twenty soldiers, half with bows, half without, behind her.

"Have your men take up positions around the rift," Cassandra told Leliana, then turned to Valeria. "Are you ready?"

Valeria nodded, "Ready to close this Breach or die trying," she nodded. She let out a long breath. "Really hoping the latter doesn't happen." Her voice wavered as she said that, sounding pitiful, but she couldn't keep her composure, not in the face of all this. Not perfectly.

 _Karel, Kharia Sul, Mavaro Rentar... what did I do to deserve this?_

"No. I need a moment," she said. "If I'm going to die, I'd like to make sure I pray one last time first." Cassandra nodded without hesitation, and Valeria closed her eyes, folded her arms over her chest and bowed her head. "Karel, You Who Design, Font of Wisdom, if I die now, know I died in pursuit of order, your holy cause. I lived my life by your teachings, and I ask nothing but entrance into peaceful eternity, if I prove worthy." Then, after a moment, she murmured another prayer, doing her best to make sure none of the others heard it.

"Alariesti, Voice of Love. If I should fall, or even if it is merely my fate to never return home..." her voice cracked, but she took another breath and forced herself to finish. "Let Kyseen find another. Nonbeliever she may be, she is a good woman, loyal to Crown and Country, who lives her life in pursuit of order and the advancement of civilization, as I always have. If I never see her again... I want her to be happy, not alone for the rest of her life." She didn't even try to stop the water collecting in her eyes, or the tear

 _I'm not sure what I am to her, but I know I love her._ The worst time to realize it, perhaps, but the prospect of truly never seeing her again...

It brought everything into sharp relief.

Valeria opened her eyes, wiping the tears away and inhaling deeply.

"I'm ready," she nodded.

Valeria followed Cassandra down into the crater. As they drew closer, she heard a booming, echoing voice, deep and unnerving: "Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asked before Valeria could.

"At a guess, the person who created the Breach," Solas offered.

"And how are we doing that, exactly?" Valeria asked, seeing several large red, glowing crystal formations just up ahead.

"In the Fade, time is fluid. And with the Veil nonexistent here, that fluidity could very well be true here. We are likely hearing the last moments before the creation of the Breach."

 _Good to know for sure that I didn't do this._ Valeria couldn't sound like that.

She drew up short as they drew closer to the glowing formations. Just being around them set her teeth on edge - she held up her right hand and murmured quiet prayer to Kharia Sul.

"Don't touch those!" Varric hurried towards her, grabbing at her arm.

"I wasn't planning on it," Valeria countered. "I was just trying to analyze... these aren't natural formations."

"Not even close," Varric agreed. "This is Red Lyrium. You touch that shit - hell, just even spend too much time around it - and you'll go nuts. Or worse."

"Die?"

"If only," Varric shook his head. "The last person who messed with this stuff turned into a statue made entirely of this - and last I checked, she had and was the only Red Lyrium in existence." Varric turned back to Cassandra. "The statue is still in Kirkwall, right Seeker?"

"The statue that was Knight-Commander Meredith is still in Kirkwall, as far as I know," Cassandra replied.

"Then how did _this_ shit get here?"

"Magic could have drawn on any lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it somehow," Solas suggested.

 _Yet more things I have no context for._ Valeria shook her head as they reached the bottom of the crater.

"Keep the sacrifice still," the voice ordered. _Very little that involves the word 'sacrifice' is good._ Especially when it was something you needed to keep still.

"Someone, help me!" A voice, female, called out, echoing in the same way as the other voice, though without that unnerving quality.

"That is Divine Justinia!" Cassandra called out. She moved quicker, racing ahead. Valeria stepped up her pace, trying to keep up with her. As they drew closer to the rift, her mark crackled to life yet again, but it didn't hurt this time - not much, anyway. Instead her hand was lifting of its own accord, lifting towards the rift.

"Someone, help me!" The woman's voice - Justina's - called out again. Then Valeria heard her _own_ voice, speaking in Kantrian:

"What the **fuck** is going-" then, with _fear_ in her voice, just a tiny quaver, "What the **fuck** are you?"

If there was one thing that had been true about her for over a decade, it was that she did _not_ curse. She hadn't even done it in bed, which had earned her some gentle ribbing from Kyseen about it.

"That was you! What did you say?" Cassandra demanded. Valeria translated, leaving out the quaver of fear in the second question.

"Most Holy called out to you," Cassandra added softly.

The rift _rippled_ and several ghostly images formed in the air between it and them, like an Illusion Play at Mytale's Theater in Kantrias. A shadowy figure, tall, with vaguely humanoid shape, but the proportions all wrong. A woman, wearing elaborate red and white robes, complete with a tall hat of some sort. She was held up in the air, her arms straight out, surrounded in some sort of magical bindings.

Then she saw herself, her sword in her hand, reaching for her revolver at her belt, cursing at the... _thing_ that had this Divine Justinia prisoner.

"Run while you can!" Justina said, looking to her. "Warn them!" Unsurprisingly, Valeria's image just looked confused, unable to understand what had been said. Her image took a step towards the shadowy figure.

 _Draw your revolver, idiot!_ She commanded her - past? - self. _Shoot him, whatever he is!_

"We have an intruder. Slay her," the voice commanded, and then the entire image shattered, disappearing from view.

"You _were_ there," Cassandra accused, glaring at her.

"Obviously," Valeria agreed. "But I still don't remember it. And I don't recognize that... figure - shape... _thing_." She gestured helplessly at where the images had been.

"Echos of what happened here. The Fade bleeds," Solas observed. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed. Albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift could be opened, then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift may attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons! Stand ready!" Cassandra drew her own sword at her words, as did the ten or so soldiers that had come down into the crater behind herself, Cassandra, Varric and Solas. On the upper edges of the crater, the rest of the soldiers notched arrows to bows.

"Let's get this done," Valeria nodded. She aimed her left hand at the rift, drawing her saber once more and holding the hilt tight as energy flowed from the mark and into the rift. After a moment, the rift burst to life, tearing open before them, and a massive figure, easily three or four times the height of a human, and just as wide, stepped out of the rift within seconds.

"Vitralia take me, that's huge," Valeria murmured. What did they feed the demons on this continent, that they got so large?

Not only was it large, but lightning crackled off of it's hands and horns, and it was covered in thick, chitinous plates.

"Pride demon!" Cassandra called out. "We must strip it's defenses! Wear it down!"

Running back and putting some distance between the demon and herself, Valeria crossed her arms over her chest, praying, calling on as much power as she could safely channel through herself: "Vitralia, Visare, Karel, Syrestara, Rakisharit, guide my hand, guide my will, and banish this demon, expel it forth from this realm!"

To her great lack of surprise at this point, the demon was still there, even after a ray of nearly blinding golden light hit it, but it was standing still, at the very least.

Her insides burned and roiled at the force of the power she'd channeled through herself.

"Now! While it's vulnerable!" Cassandra ordered her men, and they all converged on the demon.

After a moment to catch her breath and drink the last healing potion she had left, Valeria charged in at it, as did everyone else, arrows peppering the demon, only a few from every volley finding any purchase in its thick hide, the swords that hit it mostly sounding like they were clattering on thick metal. Valeria approached it's leg and sliced at what she thought might be a tendon - she didn't cut any muscles, but she did manage to damage the plate she'd hit.

Every swing, every arrow, every bolt from Varric's crossbow, every blast from Solas's staff saw the demon slightly more injured. Ichor ran from a few actual cuts, and the thick hide of the beast was cracking with every blow.

She couldn't count how long her spell held the demon in place, but unlike all the others she'd had to fight to get this far, it didn't stay held until death. With ichor now streaming from several arrow wounds in its back and a few deep cuts on its legs where its thick hide had been broken through completely, the demon let out a massive roar, sweeping its arms along the ground.

Valeria dropped and rolled to the side, instinctively reaching for her revolver as she barely evaded the swing, her muscles screaming at the exertion she was putting it through atop everyone else.

"I can't stun it again!" Valeria shouted a warning, then charged at the demon as it swiped at Cassandra. She took the blow on her breastplate and fell to the ground a short distance away, but forced herself to her feet in seconds with the help of one of her soldiers.

Valeria kept swinging at the demon, moving constantly around it's legs to avoid giving the thing an opening to hit her - the enchantments on her coat weren't enough to let her endure a hit from something so large and strong as this demon.

Valeria couldn't keep a close eye on the other combatants as she focused on moving, moving, slicing at whatever part of the demon's legs she could reach.

Finally, with one more deafening roar, the demon started to stagger, the ground now slick with its blood.

"Valeria, move!" Cassandra called out, as the demon struggled to stay upright. Blinking against the sweat that had gotten into her eyes, Valeria realized it was about to fall on her if it toppled - diving to the right, Valeria rolled to avoid the demon, feeling every stone and rough patch of dirt her body hit. She felt and heard the impact of the demon crashing to the ground, her teeth rattling as the reverberations shook the ground beneath her.

Breathing heavily, Valeria lay there for... she wasn't sure how long. She rolled over onto her back, every part of her body hurting, the soreness from her exertions intense enough to drown out any feelings from the craving for the mist.

 _Small favors from the gods._

Cassandra crouched next to her, grabbing onto Valeria's hand.

"Almost there, Inquisitor-Captain," Cassandra told her, using the proper rank. "You need to close the rift before more demons come through."

Valeria nodded, managing to push herself up into a sitting position. "Still..." she sucked in another deep breath. "Still think I did this?"

"It seems unlikely, if that vision was true," Cassandra replied. "I'm inclined to believe your innocence."

"Well, that's good." Valeria took a moment to consider the woman next to her. When she wasn't accusing her of mass murder, this Cassandra Pentaghast was more than just striking, she was quite handsome, even with the dirt and sweat and strain of battle.

 _Gods, I've got to be a little delirious._

With Cassandra's help, she got to her feet, sheathing her saber. She nearly fell after taking a few steps. Cassandra put Valeria's right arm around her shoulders and her own arm around Valeria's back, helping her reach the rift.

"Here goes nothing," Valeria murmured, holding out her left hand.

For the final time in one of the most hectic days in her life, green energy flowed from the mark on her hand and into a rift, a tear in reality. She closed her eyes, keeping her hand in place - were it not for Cassandra's assistance, she'd have dropped to the ground again.

Finally the energy stopped flowing from her hand and Valeria felt her legs give out entirely and she slid out of Cassandra's grip, hitting the floor. The sound of broken glass sliding on broken glass assaulted her ears for a moment, followed by a low boom, like a distant cannon being fired, the roar dull and muted as if -

And then.

Blackness.


	2. A Different Inquisition

**Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own any of the things you recognize from the games.

Thanks to personnongrata for beta-reading

Inquisitor-Captain

By Kylia

Chapter 2: A Different Inquisition

This was the second time in a row that Valeria Morn had woken up in a place with no idea as to how she'd gotten there.

This was not a normal pattern for her.

This time, at least, was a marked improvement than the previous, for three reasons that came to mind immediately as she sat up .

Item one: She was in a bed, in what looked like a small log cabin of some sort.

Item two: There was a small, lit, stone fireplace in the wall, which was warming the one-room dwelling up fairly well.

Item three: The pain in her left hand had subsided to a low ache. It was very noticeably _there_ , but not in the same way it had been. It was almost as if the mark was just reminding her it was there... politely.

One thing that hadn't improved, she very quickly realized, was the craving. It had only gotten worse. The sensation of needles poking and prodding on the inside of her skin had worsened., It left her feeling on edge as she looked around the cabin quickly, eyes darting from detail to detail. Each glance a touch quicker than the last. Perhaps too quick.

Valeria's fingers drummed against her leg as nervous energy coursed through her, driving her heart to beat too quickly within her chest.. This was still mild - _Khaltis_ withdrawal had a way of sneaking up on you. At first it just felt like you'd drunk too much coffee... for several days. That alone could wear on a body, but...

Her eyes fell on a small table next to the fireplace, a number of items arrayed on it. But most importantly - a single, small glass vial filled with a finely ground, reddish-brown powder.

 _Oh thank gods._ Taking a breath, Valeria sat up fully, cataloging of the aches and pains of her body. Muscles protested, but her limbs were still serviceable. A few stretches and they would be fine. She tossed aside the blankets and got out of the bed.. In the process, she realized that someone had, at some point while she was unconscious, undressed her out of her long coat and white shirt and pants and redressed her in woolen, brown, somewhat drab clothing.

Probably better suited for this weather, but as long as she had her long coat and its enchantments, Valeria wasn't going to let excess practicality get in the way of wearing the proper garb of an Inquisitor.

 _Being an Inquisitor is 30% presentation, style and a good sense of dramatic timing._ It had sounded absurd when her teachers had told her that on her first day, but she'd found that it was more than true. Perhaps even more than just 30%. People expected Inquisitors to behave a certain way, and delivering on that expectation carried a certain power with many people. The expectations may not be in place here, but basic principle remained the same, regardless.

She held her right hand over her coat - hanging on a hook in the wall along with her white shirt and pants - and extended her magic a bit, making sure the enchantments on it were intact. They were.

Walking over to the table, Valeria went over each item carefully - everything else she'd had physically on her person when she'd been magically **whisked** away from Bayetz to this... Thedas place. Well, everything except her revolver.

Her prayer book, intact, unharmed. She flipped through the pages quickly, taking some small comfort in it, in the connection to the gods she still had between the covers of the small volume. It wasn't as good as having a copy of the _Visions of Karel_ or the other five books that made up the canon of the Church...

And she could sorely use her copy of the _Commentaries_ , 999 Q.R. Edition, to help her try and figure out what she was supposed to do to navigate this... situation she'd found herself in. Then again, the full _Commentaries_ was twelve volumes and took a very well-designed shelf to hold up.

But this was better than nothing.

The rest of the items she went through quickly. Her saber in its scabbard, her sword belt, complete with an empty holster, next to it. Three hundred fifty two Sterling in notes of various denominations. Useless here, for all intents and purposes - even if they used paper money in this land, they wouldn't take Kantrian Sterling, for obvious reasons. The handful of silver-steel coins might be useful, though. Precious metals were universally accepted, more or less.

Sixty-one bullets for her revolver. All she had, minus the six - or possibly less - that had been in her fully loaded revolver when she'd been trying to disenchant the artifact that had presumably taken her here.

She'd have to husband her bullets carefully, unless somehow her minimal knowledge of how they worked was enough to teach the people here how to make more. It seemed unlikely.

 _Saltpeter. Sulfur. Charcoal._ The three ingredients of gunpowder - in what amounts, she had no idea. And she didn't have the slightest clue how to fulminate quicksilver - or even it meant for quicksilver to _be_ fulminated.

Unbidden, Valeria's mind drifted to one of the adventure stories Kyseen loved to read so much - once, out of sheer boredom, she'd read this one. The story of an airship engineer, sole survivor of her vessel when it crashed somewhere in Kholesun's interior. The engineer, with her apparently encyclopedic knowledge of every aspect of modern industry and technology, had somehow, in five years, turned the sword and shield, muscle, wind and water powered local city-state into something approaching a modern Bayetzian nation - not the equal of Kantrias by any stretch, but still. Coal-fired industry, flintlock muskets, steam engines, the works.

 _Patently absurd._ No one would know every aspect needed to kickstart an industrial revolution all by themselves. And it would take more than five years to just convince everyone necessary to go along with it. But Kyseen had claimed that the unrealistic nature of the story was part of the draw.

But this... this wasn't even close. Valeria was no engineer, no scientist, no expert in the inner workings of modern technology. Her education had focused elsewhere.

 _Never had cause to regret that now._

Valeria moved away from the bullets.

A copy of her orders for the Inquestran Borderlands mission, complete details on the coven she'd been sent to find and arrest on a few pieces of thin, folded parchment. A small medallion - on a thin silver chain - with the crown of Syrestara, the Lawgiver, on one side, and the whip of Vitralia, the First Judge, on the other.

And finally... the vial.

She picked it up, examining it closely.

Two doses. One dose could hold her over for a few days at a time. All she needed, usually. All she'd expected. She hated to carry too much at once. It made her feel like she was some pathetic junkie.

 _Aren't you?_ A quiet voice asked, but Valeria shook her head. She **wasn't**. She'd always had firm control of the habit. _Khaltis_ Mist was **no** worse an addiction than coffee and tea, for all the increased social stigma it had.

For all that she'd kept it well hidden.

 _I had it well in hand. I_ _ **have**_ _it well in hand._ She knew how much to take, how often, to get what she needed from it. Its calming, soothing effects allowing her to control herself, center her emotions...

She knew what she was doing, had it all well in hand. She always had had it well in hand. She'd just never planned for...

Well, this.

 _Two doses. More if I try to space them out a bit more, take smaller amounts._ If she tried that... maybe she could squeeze as many as six doses over the course of the next month.

If she could manage to hold out long enough between doses.

 _Enough time to find out if they have any Khaltis plants here._ It wasn't **impossible** , right?

One could hope.

Valeria closed her eyes. She'd need a few things before she could actually-

The door opened to the cabin and Valeria grabbed her saber, spinning around, pulling it half out of the scabbard-

It was just an unarmed woman. Youngish. An elf. _Another one._ She wore simple and plain garb, carrying a box - which she dropped in shock at the sight of Valeria, blade in hand. The elf let out a sound between a gasp and a scream, dropping to a low, almost prostrating bow, babbling something incomprehensible.

 _And Solas's translation spell has worn off. Lovely._

"Miss - please..." Valeria started, placing her saber back on the table and holding up her hands. "I'm not - I didn't mean to startle you," she tried to keep her voice level and calm, but the babbling grated on her nerves and she quickly found herself talking quickly, loudly.

"Will you **shut up**!" Valeria all but shouted, then she staggered back, heat rising in her cheeks as she realized what she'd done. _Gods -_

The elf - a servant? - finally stopped babbling, looked up at her, straightening back up - mostly - but looking ready to start bowing at a moment's notice.

"I - gods, I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." she made a gesture from the elf to the door, and then from the door back to where the elf was standing, trying to mime out what she wanted. "Can you - can you go get - can you go get Solas. Solas. Get Solas and bring him here, please?" Hopefully, at least, the name of the elven mage would get the point across.

She didn't know if that worked, but the elf did scamper out of the cabin moments later, and Valeria looked around. She didn't feel all that hungry, but that was probably the craving.

Probably.

She looked around the cabin again, her eyes settling on a small tray of food sitting on a desk opposite the fireplace. A hunk of dark bread, presumably some sort of rye, a bit of some kind of hard cheese, and a wooden mug of ale sat on the tray.

Valeria didn't like to drink alcohol if she had a choice, but she was hungry and thirsty, and it would do for now. She wolfed the bread and cheese down quickly - not bad, all things considered, though she found herself wishing for some olive oil to go with it. She took a few sips of the ale, then set it down.

She needed to change. Fortunately, it was a quick process to strip off the wool clothes they'd given her and put her white clothes back on. Just as she was pulling on her longcoat, she heard a light knock on the cabin door. _Good thing I moved quickly._

"Solas," she heard the elf's voice say at the door. Valeria looked to the door, started to say 'come in', then frowned, realizing how stupid that would be. Shaking her head, she walked over to the door and opened it, stepping aside and letting him in wordlessly. Once the elf was inside, she closed the door behind him, shivering at a slight gust of cold air as she did so.

"I hate to ask again..." Valeria said, somewhat pointlessly, as Solas's hand glowed a pale white light again. She didn't stop him from touching her forehead, closing her eyes against the light this time.

"...it seems you are feeling much better," she understood Solas say after a few moments.

"Overall, yeah," Valeria drummed the fingers of her right hand against her thigh as she stood there. "The mark's not gone through." She held up her left hand.

"I am not sure how it _could_ be removed," Solas admitted, sounding just a little bit upset at the fact. _He's probably a lot more than that._ The elf was pretty inscrutable, all things said and done, but she guessed he was a man used to knowing just about anything he wanted to know. "But given that the Breach remains, it is probably for the best - at least for the time being."

Valeria blinked. "It's - the hole in the fabric of reality is still _there?_ After that whole production in the ruins, demons are still pouring out of it?" _Gods._ She'd been hoping that with the Breach closed - and hopefully a trial no longer needed, given the 'vision' they'd had of the past...

She could... try and figure out more about where she was, in relation to the world she knew. Figure out how she might go about finding a way home.

 _I'd need a map of the known Thedosian world... a ship, a crew - and at least several months worth of supplies._ No way she could amass that money easily, but... at least it would be an objective, the hope of going home could be there.

But if the Breach still existed, was still raining demons from the sky...

"The Breach remains, but you seem to have managed to stabilize it," Solas explained. "It does not grow any larger, now, and no new smaller rifts have opened. Nor do demons continue to rain down from it."

"So... it partially worked?" Solas nodded. Valeria frowned, her fingers drumming against her thigh faster. "Okay... so mark plus breach doesn't equal closed. We're missing something. Any guess what?"

"Power, I believe," Solas answered. "If we gathered sufficient mages and channeled more power through your mark. In theory, that should close the Breach."

"Well, your theories seem to have worked so far," Valeria pointed out. She inhaled, then let the breath out slowly. "It's going to be really inconvenient if I need you to cast a translation spell on me every few hours. I'm sorry about that."

Solas shook his head, "I have spent the time you were unconscious working on an amulet that should anchor the spell permanently, as long as you wear it. It's not quite complete, but it should be soon."

"Really?" Valeria's eyes widened a little. "Just like that - no one back home has ever been able to permanently anchor a translation spell. And you can just do it in-" she blinked. "How long was I out anyway?"

"Just under another three days," Solas answered. "As for the rest - I am familiar with a great many magical arts lost to most other mages, due to my studies."

 _And what exactly is the nature of those studies, mysterious vagabond mage?_ As much as she was grateful to the mage for his help, in her experience, people who had - or who claimed, anyway - singular, lost magical knowledge tended to be up to no good, one way or the other. One didn't delve into lost arts for purely innocuous reasons.

But, she had no proof that he was a threat. And further, she was thousands of miles - at least - out of her jurisdiction, and she had bigger problems.

 _And just seeking knowledge is never actually wrong._ Kharia Sul's teachings on that score put her clergy at odds with some of more hardline elements of the Inquisition, but Valeria didn't see where they could question her. Knowledge alone was just a tool.

 _So far, this Solas has only been helpful with that tool._

"I need to go find that woman who went and got you, apologize to her," Valeria muttered. She felt the heat in her cheeks again as she recalled her raised voice, her anger. Withdrawal or not, she couldn't justify that.

 _But you have it all under control, don't you?_

Valeria closed her eyes and tried another deep breath. It didn't really calm her.

"First you will need to speak to Seeker Pentaghast," Solas suggested. "She wanted to see you as soon you woke and could understand what she was saying."

Right. Hole in the fabric of reality. Destroyed Conclave - dead Divine, wanted for murder. Possibly a trial, still.

"Where would I find her?"

"The Chantry." he pointed, "That way, at the far end of the village."

"Thank you," She opened the door to the cabin and stepped out, holding the door for Solas as she blinked against the sun glaring a bit off the snow on the roofs. She took a moment to look around the village, eyes darting around quickly, still drumming her right hand against her thigh. It was a small village - tiny, really. A hamlet, really. She imagined the whole place could get lost inside the Delphinium Palace, though perhaps not.

The Breach remained in the sky, but it did seem calmer - looking at it made her left hand twitch, so she moved her gaze away, still bouncing her eyes from building to building as she scanned the village. Not one sign this Thedas place was anything less than... five hundred years behind Bayetz? At least?

It was impossible to miss the chantry - it was the only stone structure inside Haven, large, moderately impressive. That much, at least, looked familiar. Like a church back home. An older one, centuries old to be sure, like those found out in the smaller towns. While the shapes may differ, its substantive purpose remained.

 _Wait - where are all the -_

Valeria's eyes lit upon the main path from her cabin to the chantry, and she froze. There appeared to be what might just be the entire population of the hamlet lining both sides of it. All eyes were upon her, each resident standing mostly still - when they weren't jostling for a better angle to see her at.

Almost all of them had one hand held in a fist over their chest. _What does that-_

Valeria shook her head, trying - and failing - to ignore them as she walked purposefully towards the chantry. She was used to getting attention - that was the whole point of the uniform - but this...

This was something else.

"That's her... that's the Herald of Andraste," one of the villagers murmured, awed. _Who?_ They had to be talking about her, but who was Andraste? What-

It sounded religious, the way the villager said the title.

 _There has to be a prohibition somewhere against being an icon of another god._ Offhand she couldn't think of one, but the gods couldn't look kindly on her if she encouraged something like that.

 _I don't even know what I'd be encouraging!_ Valeria inhaled sharply and picked up her pace, hearing more murmurs as she went - she didn't make out every single one, but the ones she did were variations on 'she's the Herald of Andraste' and 'she saved us from the Breach'.

 _I'm not sure even that second one is accurate... yet._

No one actually spoke _to_ her as she approached the wooden double-doors to the Chantry and pushed them open. The interior was lit by dozens, maybe hundreds of candles and torches, a several columns creating alcoves of a sort on both sides of a long, narrow path that lead right to a closed door on the far end.

"Have you gone completely mad!" a voice - the Chancellor she'd intimidated - demanded from the far end of that door. "She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes divine!"

"I do not believe she is guilty," Cassandra replied.

"The prisoner failed, Seeker," the Chancellor scolded, "the Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way!"

"I do not believe that," Cassandra maintained. _Glad she seems to, at least._ Still, even if Cassandra thought she was innocent, technically there should still be a trial. At least until they found a better suspect.

 _On the other hand, I don't think innocent until proven guilty is a precept they hold very dearly here._ It certainly seemed like the Chancellor had decided her guilt.

"That is not for you to decide!" The chancellor insisted. _Or he just wants to play politics._

Probably both.

In what was basically one smooth motion, Valeria kicked the door open and drew her saber, leveling it at the Chancellor - he was standing nearest the door. Two guards stood inside, drawing their own weapons at her sudden arrival. On the far side of a table dominated with a map covered in pins and markers of various types stood Cassandra and Leliana.

"If you'd like to take me to this 'Val Royeaux' for trial, Chancellor, please, make a concerted effort," she said, a hard edge creeping into her voice. _Gah!_ "But," she added, "it might be easier on you if you wait until the Breach is closed completely. Because I'd like to finish that before you finish condemning me in front of some packed Hangman's Court!" Valeria flushed again as she realized she was _actually_ shouting that last bit, the anger underlying her words.

 _Gods..._

The Chancellor blanched, staring at her saber, but Valeria shook her head and sheathed it. "Like I said, you're an idiot, not a criminal." She looked to Cassandra.

The Chancellor goggled at her for a moment, then found his composure. "Guards! Chain her! Prepare her for transport-" The two guards looked to Cassandra for orders, and she made a cutting motion with her hand.

"Disregard that, and leave us." The two guards clasped closed fists to their chests and left. So that was the local version of a salute?

"You are letting this - this ruffian and thug and **murderer** -" The Chancellor tried to assert some control, blathering

"Slander _is_ a crime, Chancellor," Valeria cut in firmly, managing - barely - to keep her voice level this time. "Don't test my patience." She turned to Cassandra. "I am perfectly content to face a fair trial, once the Breach is addressed for good. Law must be obeyed, as the gods command, but I cannot in good conscience waste time on a trial as long as the Breach remains a problem and this," she held up her left hand, the mark glowing faintly, "seems to be the key to fixing it."

"And on top of everything else," the Chancellor threw up his hands in disgust, "this so-called Herald of Andraste you're raising up follows heathen gods!" Despite herself, Valeria had to admit that the Chancellor had something resembling a spine if he could keep from mouthing off.

 _Or maybe he's just gotten it through his head I won't actually hurt him just for talking._

 _Much._

"Who is Andraste?" Valeria demanded, looking to Cassandra and Leliana. "Some of the people in the village called me 'Herald' too." The Chancellor sputtered angrily. "What does it even mean?"

"Andraste is the bride and prophet of the Maker," Leliana supplied. Valeria had to guess, based on context that the 'Maker' was the god this 'Chantry' worshipped.

 _What a creative name. Did this Maker pick it themselves?_ Also an arrogant name - did their god do something stupid and claim to have single-handedly created the world, or something?

No god Valeria knew of was so stupid as to anger all the other gods who had been present at creation by claiming to have done it all by themselves, but some of the false cults set up by conmen, montebanks or unscrupulous witches and mages sometimes claimed their 'god' or 'goddess' or the like had created everything by themselves.

"The scouts who found you reported seeing a woman in the rift behind you when you fell out of the Fade." Leliana explained. _Right. That... woman I remember, when everything was green._ "And word has spread of what was seen in the temple, of the Divine crying out to you for help. And you stabilized the Breach, saved Haven - and possibly more beyond - from being completely overrun by demons. The people believe you were sent by the Maker to save us in our time of need."

"Nonsense," Valeria shook her head. "I highly doubt your Maker or their wife sent someone who doesn't worship either of them to save you all. What would be the incentive?"

"The people believe you to be sent by providence," Leliana repeated. "It gives them hope in the face of all that has happened." _Ah. So we lie to people so they can believe their god supports them._

 _Why don't they just have their clergy-_

Valeria blinked.

 _Right. They think only mages cast spells here. So this Maker doesn't actually grant magic to their followers._

"Whatever you believe, Valeria," Cassandra added, "this is our darkest hour - you survived when all others died, possessing exactly what we need. That is providence." Cassandra spoke with a passionate conviction, a faith Valeria could respect.

Even if she couldn't agree with it.

"Or she is a murderer and her survival was her plan to begin with!" The Chancellor countered.

"Have a care as you throw out accusations, Chancellor," Leliana said, looking at him with a cold, harsh expression. "Cassandra and I and the soldiers were there, we saw and heard the vision - someone else held Divine Justinia captive, someone she did not expect." She walked around the table a few paces, drawing closer to the Chancellor. "Perhaps they died in the explosion - and perhaps they have allies who still live."

" _I_ am a suspect?!" the chancellor stepped back, disbelieving. Valeria doubted the petty bureaucrat had anything to do with it, based on her read of the man, but Leliana obviously knew him and the situation better.

"You and many others - many of Grand Clerics who sought your appointment as Chancellor were critics of most holy's plans and program." _Church politics. The same no matter what gods you follow._

There was always someone ready to use the gods for personal power.

"And you think those critics would resort to murder!? I ask again, have you both gone **mad**?"

"That is what we intend to find out, along with closing the breach," Cassandra said, holding a heavy book in her hands. The cover was embossed with the same stylized eye symbol as her tabard.

"You don't have the authority-!" The chancellor started to retort, but Cassandra slammed the tome onto the table.

"You know what this is, Chancellor." She thumped the book heavily. "This is a writ, penned by Divine Justinia herself, granting us the authority to act in face of the crisis gripping Thedas." _But she's dead._

 _Does the writ still hold water after her death?_

Obviously Cassandra thought it did. One more thing Valeria needed to learn.

"As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn!" She took several steps towards the Chancellor. "We **will** close the Breach. We **will** find those responsible. And we **will** restore order! With or without your approval!" She punctuated each sentence by poking the Chancellor in the Chest as he tried to back away. Finally, he just turned tail and ran out of the room.

The fire and conviction in Cassandra's voice, the zeal with which she spoke, the _power_ in her words...

For a moment, only one thought could go through Valeria's mind - Cassandra was more than striking, more than handsome. As she made her declaration, she was unquestionably hot.

 _Valeria, what the hell?!_ Valeria inhaled sharply, digging her fingernails into the base of her palms. It was the craving, the confusion, the absurdity of her whole situation that had her so distracted - and distractible - as to be thinking such a situationally inappropriate thought.

 _Maybe. Doesn't make it untrue._


	3. Context, Finally

**Disclaimer:** Second Verse, same as the first. Or no - I _totally_ own Dragon Age, and that's why I'm writing fanfic. I'm secretly all of Bioware in a trenchcoat.

I am not an expert on guns in general, or on revolvers specifically. I did research, trying to figure out a 'how revolvers work for dummies' explanation that Valeria could give here. If I got anything wrong, it was either deliberate - Valeria's not an expert on the inner workings of her revolver either, and it is very new technology - or it was my screw up. I apologize for the latter. Please, bear with my ignorance on the subject.

I'm sorry - I could have sworn I posted this up a few weeks ago. Much apologizings.

Thanks extended to personnongrata for beta-reading this chapter.

Inquisitor Captain

By Kylia

Chapter 3: Context, Finally

"So," Valeria said after a moment, unable to stop drumming her fingers against the table. She looked around the room, trying to keep her gaze on Cassandra and Leliana, but she wasn't doing that great a job of it. She needed to get a teapot or... a pot of some kind, anyway, to boil water in, needed to use the mist again.

 _I just need a half-dose. Just enough to take the edge off._

Her leg shaking in little repetitive motions, Valeria started again:

"So. An Inquisition. And since I'm the only one who can have a hope of closing the Breach, you need me to be a part of your Inquisition," It was one thing to work with non believers, especially when it came to dealing with demons and their ilk, but to join an arm of the church of another faith?

That was... messy.

"You are the Herald of Andraste, and you are right, we need you to seal the Breach and any smaller rifts," Cassandra agreed, earnestly. "We cannot do this without you or the inspiration you would provide to our soldiers and the rest of the Inquisition."

"I'm not the 'Herald of Andraste', Cassandra," Valeria replied flatly. "I'm not a follower of your Maker, or their wife, and I'm not going to convert." Before Cassandra or Leliana could say anything, Valeria held up a hand. "I'm not denying your Maker's existence or anything of the sort. But I follow the Karelist Pantheon, and that is where my faith lies." She didn't try to keep her voice flat here. "The Church is my _home_ , my life, and I believe in the teachings of my gods, just as you believe in the teachings of your god."

"Not that I have any idea of what those teachings even _are._ There's a lot I need to know about Thedas, since I'm stuck here until the Breach is dealt with. And then I can try to figure out a way home." _However I do that. Wherever 'home' is from here._

"True. And if you are to be the Herald," Leliena said, "there's more we need to know about you." Now it was her turn to forestall any argument, though she managed to get Valeria to not say anything with just a stony expression. "Regardless of what you think, Captain Morn, the people believe you are the Herald, and there's little to be done about that. Little that _should_ be done. You have the mark. You are the one who can save us."

Valeria sighed. It did seem she was the one who could save them - or at least, the only one who could close the Breach, which was functionally the same thing - but this... being part of some... faction of another faith, being held up as savior by the followers of that faith.

 _On the other hand, I'm not a missionary, I'm surrounded by the followers of this 'Maker' and religious toleration, except of pagans and heretics, has been the law of the land for centuries, in Kantrias._

She wasn't in Kantrias, but she was a Kantrian. Kantrian law, Kantrian Ideals. She'd lived her life by those, by the will of the Karelist Gods. She wasn't going to change any of that now.

She couldn't - wouldn't - change these people's beliefs, and there were bigger matters than that in place.

Valeria closed her eyes and took a shaky, but deep breath.

"Okay... well, let's start with this... Inquisition you declared. If the Divine authorized it, it couldn't have been for this, since she died. What was it supposed to be reborn for?"

Cassandra spoke this time, "She prepared that writ for the aftermath of the Conclave. If the Conclave had succeeded in coming to an agreement, the Inquisition would have been empowered to enforce that agreement on _all_ mages and Templars, even the groups that hadn't sent representatives because they wanted to continue the fighting." She paused for a moment, looking at the map, then back to her. "And if the Conclave produced no agreement, the Inquisition was to end the fighting one way or another."

"But now there's a bigger problem than a war between mages and Templars, so the Inquisition is dealing with that instead," Valeria stated the obvious, and Cassandra nodded.

"We might have to deal with the war anyway," Leliana cut in. "Your mark clearly wasn't _enough_ to close the Breach, but it could just be a matter of power. And if we want more power, we need more mages. There are only a handful of loyalist mages here in Haven, and that is not nearly enough to close the Breach. Or so they believe. We may need to ask the rebel mages for aid." Cassandra looked away, scowling at Leliana's words. Yet more proof that Cassandra had a problem with mages. That a great many people here had a problem with mages, with magic.

 _Deal with that in a second._ Yet one more problem and one more source of confusion.

"What does Solas think? Suspiciously competent or not, he appears to be the resident expert on the Breach, or the closest we have, anyway."

"He thinks it may be possible," Cassandra allowed. "But the rebel mages will demand a price for their help. Commander Cullen believes there might be another option... and I will admit I find parts of it preferable."

"Who is Commander Cullen, and what is his idea?"

"He is Commander of the Inquisition's military forces. He thinks that if we were to get the help of the Templars, they could use their abilities to suppress it, making it easier for you alone to close the Breach."

Leliana shook her head, "he's letting is suspicion of mages color his judgement. There is no way to know if the Templars could do that."

"He knows full well what Templars are capable of, given that he was one," Cassandra pointed out.

"Perhaps," Leliana allowed after a long moment, but she seemed skeptical, still. Valeria looked from one to the other.

"So... clearly, I need to know what's going on here, with mages and Templars. I know what a mage is, but I have no idea why they're fighting templars, and I get the impression from Cassandra's immediate hostility when she thought I _was_ a mage that... you guys don't like mages much here." It seemed odd to her, but according to the history books, the Druids had hated mages, in much the same way the Church had once hated witches - and some corners, still did, in all honesty.

"Mages are not well trusted in Thedas," Leliana said, the words coming off her tongue filled with distaste. "Blamed for something not in their control." Cassandra said nothing, but she did make a disgusted noise, though at what part of Leliana's statement, Valeria couldn't be sure.

"You said you hunt mages," Cassandra said after a long moment of silence. "So distrust of mages cannot be unknown in your land."

"I hunt _renegade_ mages. Mages that break the law." And Witches that broke the law. "Most mages are normal, law abiding people. The Royal Army would be crippled without them, mages form a critical part of our economy, our industry." She shrugged, "But they do also have abilities beyond what the normal city guardsman can cope with. So Inquisitors often get called in, because we're trained in magic that specializes in countering other magic."

"Magic that comes from your Gods," Cassandra raised an eyebrow, her tone clipped, terse.

"Yes, magic that comes from the Gods. That's what gods _do_. The Volutian Triumvirate Tribunal channels power through their priests, Kaya-ren-tia grants power to her oracles, the Karelist Gods grant magic to their clergy, to Inquisitors. So long as you serve the will and teachings of your gods and have the training... that god will let you channel some of their power - a tiny, tiny fraction - through your body and into the world at large." She looked at the expressions on the two other women's faces'.

"Your Maker... doesn't do anything like that?"

"No, not as such," Leliana said carefully after a long moment. "The Maker turned his back on humanity. The Chantry teaches that when the Chant of Light is heard in all four corners of the world, he will return to us."

 _That seems... unlikely._

"The only magic known here is drawn from the Fade - or blood magic," Leliana finished.

"Very few things that are good start with the word 'blood'," Valeria observed. 'The Fade' had to be the local name for the Aether - but wasn't is also the dimension of demons the Breach opened into?

 _Could be both? Or do their mages literally draw power from another dimension, not the space between them?_ That was...

Well, Valeria didn't know. _First time I've ever wished I'd studied magical theory more extensively._ "I'm gonna guess it involves using blood to power spells?"

Cassandra nodded, "Or control the minds of others, yes."

 _Magic can't do-_

Valeria bit her tongue before she said that. She'd travelled to a completely different continent that worshipped some egocentric god claiming to have made the whole universe and that had decided to not grant any spells to his clergy. Anything was possible at this point.

 _Freaking_ _ **elves**_ _exist, alive, here!_

"Well, I don't know what I can tell you, but my magic doesn't come from your 'Fade' or blood. It comes from the Karelist Gods. We can worry about the theological ramifications of it... later? Please?" Never would be ideal.

Valeria was no theologian. No missionary. And she was, from the sound of things, surrounded by a whole continent that worshipped this one Maker.

"Right now, we have bigger, more immediate issues, than the relationship between your 'Maker' and my Gods. Or if you believe me about my magic. I have things I need to know. Too many things - Templars, mages, rebel mages, apparently. Which means something to rebel against. I - I don't even know enough to know what questions to ask. What's the Chantry, exactly? What does the -" She trailed off.

"Let's start at the beginning?"

"This will take some time," Leliana said. "Have a seat," She gestured to a chair, and sat down herself. Cassandra was content to stand, and then she started to pace, like a caged animal.

Leliana - with occasional input from Cassandra, spent the next few hours detailing a thumbnail sketch of the History of Thedas, Mages and their Circles, the Templar Order, the Chantry, the events in a city called Kirkwall, and the outbreak of rebellion.

Throughout it, Valeria managed to contain several outbursts, but only by digging her nails into the base of her palms, or into her forearms.

The people of this continent were insane.

Flat out. Just. Insane.

There was no other way to explain it. There couldn't be.

 _Your maker grants no spells, sends no word, and you all worship him why? His teachings are fairly straightforward and largely good, except where everyone starts debating what magic being meant to serve and not rule means. Seems pretty straightforward to me - mages can't serve anyone stuck in a fucking tower and treated like slaves. Just don't put them in charge._

Of course, without having read the _context_ of the line. But it was just... a waste of talent.

Kantrias hadn't become the preeminent power of Bayetz by not using magic. So many sick people were healed by widespread use of magic. The Royal Army relied on magic for communication, various offensive and defensive applications, logistics, information gathering... many a factory needed at least one mage on staff to make sure the enchantments on their steam engines, and all that was powered by them, were intact.

Magic was a tool, to be used to advance people's lives, make them better. They stuffed mages into cages, told them they should hate themselves and watched them constantly. Then they asked themselves _why_ mages wanted out and were willing to fight to achieve their freedom?

 _Well, no, I don't think Leliana likes the whole thing._ It was hard to say, but Leliana seemed to be somewhat skeptical of the practical efficacy of the "Circles", though it was hard to say what she thought about their doctrinal merit.

Even Cassandra seemed to, somewhat reluctantly, acknowledge the many excesses of the Templars and the flaws in the system as it had stood before the rebellion - and the failures of her own 'Seekers', which appeared to be something like the Internal Affairs of the Templars.

If Kantrias had done something as stupid as these Circles...

 _To be fair, we don't have abominations._ A frightening thought, she admitted. Becoming an abomination was apparently much easier than summoning demons was on Bayetz. But one mage was one abomination. Frightening, but still.

 _A waste of talents, and inhumane._ That's all the Circles could be. Even Syrestara taught that rebellion could be justified if Law failed to protect and provide for you, and it sounded like whatever the theory, the entire system was designed for abuse. Imprisonment just for your manner of birth

The Chantry was even worse, from what little she could gather. It was actually divided in two - one governed from the 'evil' Tevinter Imperium and another in Orlais - the Orlesian one being the one that Cassandra and Leliana were part of. Doctrinal differences were several, but ultimately it sounded like politics.

The whole southern version of the Maker Church - Chantry - seemed rife with politics, conservatism and ass-covering, especially now that the Divine was dead, and everyone wanted to take her place. And it had been too ossified to actually reign their own military arm in once the mages rebelled - or so do beforehand.

 _Competition._ Valeria remembered a text of Church History she'd read when she was 15 - the brothers and sisters at the Orphanage hadn't approved of her reading it, but they hadn't banned her from doing so.

The author of that text had argued that, before the Edict of Toleration - before the rise of minority faiths in Kantrias that were part of mainstream society and of appreciable size, really - there had been much more corruption in the Karelist Church. A certain... malaise, laziness and corruption. He'd spoken of the well known economic principle of competition. And applied it to the church.

At the time, she wasn't sure what she'd thought of that thesis. But at first glance, it seemed like perhaps he'd had a point.

Upon further inquiry, she'd learned that the dwarves - the ones that still lived underground, anyway - worshipped their ancestors and 'The Stone', and that the Dalish Elves - whatever exactly they were - worshipped their own gods. And there were the Qunari, a race _and_ a religion, to the north. They were quite warlike.

"And speaking of the Qunari," Leliana said, sidetracking a moment. "They are known to possess an explosive powder, used for various purposes, including great cannons that can fire metal balls at great speeds - and render most fortresses useless. They call it _Gaatlok_. The recipe for it is unknown."

"We call it gunpowder," Valeria said. "Speaking of, may I have my revolver back?"

"A fitting name for it," Leliana produced the weapon and slid it across the table to her. "How does it work?"

Valeria spun out the cylinder and checked. She'd been fully loaded before she'd been whisked away here - but all her bullets were gone. "You test fired it?"

"Yes," Leliana nodded. "It went right through unenchanted armor."

"There's a reason I don't wear metal armor. It's just pointless against guns," Valeria nodded. "As for how it works... I'm not an expert. I know each bullet," she took one out of her coat and set it on the table, "has gunpowder in it, and is capped with a a small amount of fulminate of quicksilver. When I pull the trigger, the hammer," she showed them what she meant, "hits the quicksilver, igniting it and the gunpowder, and the bullet is fired." Leliana opened her mouth, and Valeria shook her head.

"No, I don't know how to make gunpowder, and I'm not sure how one fulminates quicksilver. I know that gunpowder is made from sulfur, saltpeter and charcoal. But how you make it, what proportions of each?" She shook her head. "I'm not a scientist, an alchemist or an engineer."

 _Interesting that someone on this continent has gunpowder though. I'm surprised no one else has managed to steal the formula from these 'Qunari'._ They had to have a fiercely capable counterintelligence capacity to pull that off.

"And only cannons?"

"As far as I know," Leliana replied.

"And everyone uses bows, and swords and axes and... all that?" Another nod. "I'm going to have to wear some real armor then." Something light - relatively, anyway. She knew any armor of any merit would be a weight she was unused to, but her coat, even enchanted as it was, wouldn't stand up to swords and axes and arrows forever - mute the blows, perhaps, but no more than that. The key to surviving when it came to guns was not armor, but to just not get hit.

"That can be arranged," Cassandra nodded. "Though it would be best to practice in it once you have it, to get used to the weight."

"You'd know more about wearing armor than I do." Valeria took a breath, then let it out. "Okay, so, what else do I need to know?"

And then it was back to the information - details on Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, and more on the events in the city of Kirkwall. The Mage Rebellion had been decades, maybe even centuries in the making, that much was clear, but it had ultimately been set off by the actions of two people in Kirkwall - a mage named Anders and the Templar Knight-Commander Meredith.

 _So they even have terrorists here too._ Anders had "accomplished" more with one explosion - albeit a large one, apparently - than any Tessoi rebel group had in the last century, actually starting a whole war. _A good thing he's dead or I'd insist on killing him myself._ There was only one good way to deal with a terrorist.

She learned more about this 'Lyrium', and how it was normally blue. Dangerous to humans and elves in its raw form, it was used to give Templars their ability to cancel magic - Valeria was curious if it would work on _her_ magic - and used by mages, to much more limited degrees, to improve their spellcasting. And it was essential in enchanting items.

 _Sounds like this Lyrium is the most important substance on the continent._ Idly, she wondered if that explained the strange magical development. Did they even have witches here? Or was all the Lyrium, under the surface, part of the reason why everyone was a mage? Or were mages here akin to a mix between witches and mages on Bayetz?

 _Shouldn't magic work the same everywhere?_ Apparently not.

Lyrium was addictive, and eventually drove all of its users to madness. Which, apparently, was one of the factors in the Templar's own rebellion against the mages. A belief that the Chantry had forced Lyrium onto the Templars in order to control them.

 _Sounds reasonable, given everything I've heard about this Chantry._ Part of her wished she _was_ a proper missionary, no matter how unwise attempted proselytizing on her own would be. The Church would be salivating at the chance to convert the people of this continent. Any god would be better than their Maker, as far as Valeria could tell, bar something like Bellerphon.

As they went on, she was given more and more information. Indeed, it was so much information that much of it... just found no purchase in her mind, because even this context wasn't enough. Hopefully she'd retain it - partially - and as she learned more, she could fill in the gaps.

She hoped.

Finally though, Valeria had to stop.

"Okay - that's... enough for now." She had no idea how long it had been, but long enough that food and drink had actually brought in by a servant. Valeria had eaten the food quickly, still quite hungry, but she needed some time to digest all this information.

"This is just - It's... a lot of information to take in." Valeria stood up, rubbing at her temple. "Do you have tea on this continent?" When the word came out not in Kantrian, she had to guess they did. Leliana's nod confirmed it. "Can you have someone deliver a kettle of water and some tea leaves to my cabin? I prefer to brew it myself." All she needed was the hot water. For the Mist.

"That can be arranged," Leliana confirmed.

"I need a bit of time to digest all this... figure out what exactly it means. After that... I suppose we need to figure out if we're meeting with the rebel mages or the Templars, whose help to try to get for the Breach." She didn't think Templars, magic suppression or not, would be able to be of help with the Breach.

In Valeria's experience, when it came to dealing with magic, the answer was usually more magic.

"That might not be possible yet," Cassandra shook her head. "The Inquisition may have been formed by the Divine's writ, but if the Chantry refuses to recognize that writ, then we have no standing. And we have few supplies or allies. We... may not have the standing to meet with either side. Or... offer anything in exchange for their help."

"There's a hole in the fabric of reality. That should be taking priority?!"

Everyone on this continent was insane.

"Do people really always act in the public interest in your Kantrias?"

Valeria shook her head at Leliana's question. "No..." She wanted to argue - argue that in the face of something like this, they would. But would something like the Breach convince the Tessoi to stop their restiveness? Would the proscribed cults and renegade covens suddenly stop their machinations? Would Kantrias start holding hands with Voluz and the League of Free Cities and sing The Hymn of Unity?

 _No._ Not even close. Perhaps it might make some of the more reasonable people sit down to negotiate, but they'd be hard, bitter and drawn out negotiations. At best.

"Before you go - we do need to know more about _you_." Leliana pointed out. "This is not the time for a theological debate, you are right. But we do need to know more about you."

Valeria let out a breath and sat down. "Alright. What do you want to know?" she saw Leliana take out a clean sheet of parchment and ink a quill, apparently ready to start taking notes.

"Your full name?"

"Valeria Honor Prosperity Charity Morn," Valeria answered. Leliana raised an eyebrow, but Cassandra seemed unfazed by the unusual middle names. Unusual for most people, anyway. "It's custom in Church Orphanages to give children middle names after Karelist Virtues."

"That would answer another question. Do you know anything of your parents?"

"The midwife that brought me to the Orphanage apparently told the brothers and sisters there that my mother was a whore," Valeria answered with a shrug. Being the child of a prostitute wasn't something she'd really been that ashamed of, since she had no knowledge of her mother or her career. The woman could have been a woman at a common brothel, or a high-class escort to the rich and powerful, or anything in between.

Alariesti's priesthood even ran or helped run a great many brothels, in the deity's capacity as the patron of Lust. Better to ensure everyone involved was safe and healthy, and only those who wanted to work the job were involved.

"Beyond that..." Valeria shrugged. "I not nothing, and I've never sought her out."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty nine."

"What exactly is your Inquisition?" Cassandra asked a question now. "How is it structured? How does it work? What are its responsibilities? Does the rank of Inquisitor-Captain imply some sort of military authority?"

"Once," Valeria nodded. "The Church doesn't have soldiers under arms anymore, but it used to be that Inquisitorial Ranks were structured on military lines so that if one needed to take command of some of the Church's soldiers to complete her mission, they had the proper authority to do so." And that had come out of the interminable wars with the Druids, in the earliest days of the Church.

"But now it's just tradition. I usually worked alone," _except for Kyseen, recently_ "but I can command other Inquisitors and Inquisitor-Lieutenants, if a task requires more people." Valeria bit the inside of her cheek, trying to use the flash of pain to drive thoughts of Kyseen from her mind.

"As to the rest of your questions - the Inquisition reports to the High Inquisitor and the three Inquisitor-Generals, under the authority of the Grand Vicar of the Church. Some Inquisitors are responsible for guarding Church Officials and Church Property against attack, theft, and so on. Others police the church itself - rooting out corrupt clergy or bureaucratic officials, that sort of thing. Heretics too, when appropriate."

"Or, as I was primarily focused on, tracking down pagans and dealing with renegade cults and covens."

"Did you have the authority to summarily execute?"

"No. People would fight back against arrest, of course, but if they surrendered or were captured without a fight, they were turned over to the Courts." She understood the logic behind this interrogation, even if she needed privacy, needed the Mist.

They needed to know more about her, about her abilities. Her professional background.

"Mostly, I didn't engage in investigations. I went where the targets were, and brought them in. Some interrogation, but investigations were not my field of focus," Valeria added. "I'm good with my saber, I can block and dispel magic and... well, I can't seem to banish demons here, but you saw how I could stun them." She didn't understand why they couldn't be banished. Was it the Breach? Because the barriers between the demon's reality and this one were gone, they couldn't be shoved back home and the door closed behind them?

"In the Inquisition of old, there was only one 'Inquisitor' - the leader," Cassandra said carefully. "It would be... complicated to refer to you as Inquisitor-Captain, given that."

 _Because I'm obviously not in charge._ Valeria wondered who was. Cassandra seemed like she was the leader, but she didn't seem to be taking the mantle of Inquisitor herself. Else she'd have said so just now.

 _Leadership by committee?_ There were two others that weren't here - a Commander Cullen, and someone named Josephine, a diplomat. Did the four of them intend to run things collectively?

Valeria took in a breath. She wanted to protest the point, but she also couldn't. Inquisitors were absolutely allowed to lie about being Inquisitors, if it suited their investigations. _I just can't lie worth a damn._ Everything else, including her pride, had to take second place to closing the Breach.

"Understandable," Valeria agreed with a nod. "Well, I'm still a Captain, so let's go with that. Unless that will be a problem?"

"I see no issue. Though I suspect most will simply call you 'Herald'," Leliana observed.

"Well, if I can't disabuse you two of that notion, I will hardly be able to disabuse everyone else of it," Valeria sighed. "Between us, at least, I'd be more comfortable with Captain, but I'm in no position to dictate terms. Are there any more questions you have for me for now?"

"None that need to be answered urgently, no," Leliana replied, looking to Cassandra. Cassandra looked like she had a few more questions to ask, but after a moment, she too shook her head. Valeria nodded.

"Then I will return to the cabin and... digest everything," Valeria turned, starting for the door, when several thoughts occurred to her.

 _And why didn't I think of those earlier?_

She turned back to the two women: "If at all possible, could I get a copy of the Chant of Light? If I am to be seen as a Herald of your prophetess, I'd like to at least have a better understanding of what she taught. And... if you have a book on the flora of Thedas, I'd like to borrow one." _Don't let them ask why._

"I believe Josephine has one, and if not, I'm sure I could arrange for you to borrow one from Adan, our alchemist. As for the Chant of Light," Leliana turned around and retrieved a book from a small shelf against the back wall that Valeria had missed. "Here." Valeria took the offered tome. The cover was worn, well used, showing the book was read often. In Kantrias a book that looked like this might be more than a hundred years old. More and more, most books were being published of cheaper material, or with less care in their binding. It had its downsides, but it also made books far more accessible, which Valeria approved of.

"Thank you," Valeria inclined her head in a respectful nod. "I'd offer to let either of you borrow my prayer book, if you were curious about Karelist teachings, but you can't read Kantrian." _Could Solas's spell even let her read the language here?_ Valeria opened the book to a random page as the thought occurred to her. The symbols and lettering were wholly alien and unfamiliar to her, but as she looked at them, she found that here and there, she could recognize various words.

Words and letters she'd never seen in her life were comprehensible to her as she could grasp whole sentences.

"Come back to the war room tomorrow morning," Leiliana said. "I've heard that there's a Revered Mother in the Hinterlands that may be willing to meet with us, give us an opening to prevent the rest of the Chantry from uniting completely against the Inquisition. My scouts should be reporting back this evening, if not sooner."

"Tomorrow morning," Valeria agreed.

When she returned to her cabin, she found that a pot of water and a small bag of tea leaves had beaten her to it, and she hug the pot over the fire. With the water soon boiling, she opened her vial of _Khaltis_ powder.

 _Half dose. Half dose._

Four doses. If she spaced them out enough, she could make it last a month. One half-dose a week.

 _Maybe I could go even smaller..._ But Valeria dismissed the thought. She was going to run out sooner or later, and this was not enough to try to slowly wean herself off of the Mist. She _needed_ it now... Her leg was twitching even as she stood there pondering the vial.

Breathing quickly, Valeria tapped a small amount - too small - of the clumpy power into her palm, and then brushed it into a small clay mug. Then the boiling water, and a quick stir. The powder would take some time to infuse, but she held the mug regardless, just the impending knowledge of her coming dose enough for the moment.

"I have this under control!" Valeria muttered, angrily, hating the fury undergirding her tone. "Well, I _did_. But now I'm here where there's probably nothing even close to _Khaltis Root_." Hopefully that book on Thedas's flora would give her something, but she doubted it. And it wouldn't do to get addicted to a Thedosian plant, for when she returned home.

 _Because I will..._

She'd try to, eventually. Somehow. Some way.

Valeria sat down on the bed, holding the cup close to her face, and slowly, she felt the fumes of the mist start to reach her nose. She took a deep inhale, letting it flow in through her nose. Her leg still twitched, her mind still raced, her eyes kept bouncing around the room, but...

 _It will get better._

As she sat there inhaling the mist, She heard a knock on the door. She jolted, nearly dropping the cup. _Fuck!_

"Who is it?" She managed to get out with a snap, the agitation in her tone evident. _Gods damn it!_ Never before had she wished the Mist would work instantaneously, but this insane place was a place of firsts for her, it seemed.

"Solas," the elf replied, sounding unfazed by her tone. "I have the amulet."

Valeria closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a breath, but she couldn't manage to make it a deep one. "Right. Come in!" She didn't set the cup down, but she did lower it down from being so close to her nose.

The elf came in, closing the door behind him. Valeria got off the bed, taking a moment to look the man over more carefully. He did dress like a vagabond, but he carried himself like man who was used to being respected. He was handsome, she supposed, but in an unappealingly angular, pointed sort of way. The baldness was odd - he didn't look old, but he was an elf, so who knew? It could have been voluntary. Some cultures did that.

Even the women of some Bayetzian cultures did.

 _Can't say I understand that._ She ran a hand through her deep purple hair, idly glad that she'd recently had the magical dye touched up recently. It would last for years. The political statement of her chosen shade would be lost on the people here, but it was a comforting reminder of home.

"Am I interrupting something?" Solas asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No. No." Valeria shook her head, "Not really," she stumbled over her words. _Gods damnit, yes you_ _ **are**_ _._ "Just... collecting my thoughts. Leliana and Cassandra had a lot to tell me about this... Thedas. Chantry and Maker and Circles and Templars and Ferelden and Orlais... all of it unfamiliar, all of it something I'll need to keep straight."

"I can appreciate the difficulty of it. Even after living in Thedas my whole life, I find it can still be confusing." He extended a hand, and Valeria took the offered amulet. "Actually, if you aren't busy, I was curious about a few things you said about your homeland."

"The fact that elves are extinct?" Valeria suggested, and Solas nodded.

"I'm not an expert on it, but yeah. Elves haven't lived in what is now Kantrias for well over a thousand years, so my education didn't touch on them in detail." She closed her eyes, trying to muster what she did remember.

"They... were a dwindling people for centuries before it, increasingly reclusive, but the last time anyone saw an elf on Bayetz was... eight hundred and something years ago, in the Whispering Woods. Those are in the far north of the continent, near the Roof of the World. No one knows where they went, or what happened, but some of their ruins are still intact. Old towers and such, deep in various forests."

"Interesting," Solas said noncomittally. "Anything else about them you recall?"

Valeria sighed, "They weren't always reclusive, but did tend to live in small communities in forests, away from humans. Supposedly they didn't get along with the Dragons, but they're all gone now too, so no one can ask them. They were very much gifted mages, they had no gods... I think. And they lived a long time, or so they say. Hundreds of years." That part, at least, earned small reaction from Solas.

"I take it that's not true here?"

Solas shook his head. "No. It is said that elves of ages past, before the rise of the Tevinter Imperium, could live exceptionally long lives, that our magic was... impressive beyond belief. Fragments of that magic are still kept by the Dalish, as warped and flawed as their memory of it is. But the elves of Thedas live no longer than humans."

"Huh," Valeria furrowed her brow. "That's odd. Elfbloods do age slower than humans, after all."

"Elfbloods?"

"Humans with elvish ancestry. Way back when, some elves, some humans would fuck, have kids, even get married." Valeria looked around the room some more as she kept talking, though at least her leg wasn't twitching anymore. "Half-elves aren't a thing anymore, of course, but if two people with enough elvish blood in them have a kid, you sometimes get an elfblood. Pointed ears, more angular features, they age a bit slower. Two elfbloods have a kid, that's another elfblood."

Solas frowned a moment, as if in thought, then nodded. "Curious. Thank you. I'll leave you to your thoughts for now."

 _Thank you._ "You're welcome. Thank you for the amulet."

Once Solas left, Valeria took a deep inhale of the mist as she brought the cup back up to her nose.

Soon enough, she'd be back to feeling like normal, and she could figure out what to do about... well, everything.


	4. A Plan Made

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age.

Thanks to personnongrata/verynonyideas for beta-reading

Valeria has 61 bullets for her Revolver. No more, no less. She's going to have to keep careful track of them, now won't she.

Inquisitor Captain

By Kylia

Chapter 4: A Plan Made

Valeria had let herself sit there, inhaling the steam and aromatic fumes rising from the half-dose of the mist for nearly half an hour. Or such was her guess, anyway. Without any sort of clock, she had to assume it was a mere approximation. It was twice as long as she was supposed to sit there and inhale, but she did it anyway. It did mean she had to carefully - very carefully - pour out some of the cooling water and add fresh hot water from the kettle, but that too was worth it.

By the time she was done, she felt...

Well, almost normal. She still felt like she'd drunk too much coffee, but now it was just a low-grade jitteriness, rather than the constant thrumming sensation of needles under her skin, of the endless, boundless nervous energy.

She spent the next while picking her way through the Chant of Light. On the one hand, Solas's amulet was allowing her to read the local language, but her brain kept tripping her up - the words were wholly unfamiliar. While she knew what they said, many of the words still stymied her for a moment.

 _Probably just how alien the script itself is._ Almost all the languages in and around Kantrias used the same Thorosian alphabet, derived from Arelan Syllabic characters. You had to go all the way to Voluz, or to the Isle of Iomedia or Guyas to find a civilized realm that didn't use a script based on Arelan syllabary, really. So all the letters tended to be at least vaguely familiar, as a rule, whatever the language.

These... these were nothing like any letter she knew, and so it kept tripping her up.

Finally though, she was starting get a feel for it and working her way through the Canticle of Transfigurations, which appeared to be the core teachings of Andraste. Finding the context for the 'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him' line didn't make her feel like the Circles made any more sense.

 _Are you really surprised? This whole religion is as crazy as the continent._ It was the reason the continent was absolutely nuts. Had to be. She could understand the apocalyptic plague and pestilence followers of Bellerphon more than anyone who followed this Maker. _What good is following a god who does nothing for any of his worshippers? Especially one as egotistical as this so-called Maker? A god that doesn't care about those who follow his teachings is a god hardly worth the name._

Then again, if she said that, she suspected the devout would have an answer for her. Probably even use her own presence at a serendipitous time, the only one who could stop the Breach, as proof of the Maker acting on the behalf of the faithful.

 _Haven't Cassandra and Leliana already done that?_

Halfway through reading the canticle though, Valeria felt her stomach rumble a little and she closed the book, standing up and rubbing at her eyes for a moment. She inhaled deeply, and took a moment to appreciate the sense of calm and quiet that permeated her form now that the _Khaltis_ Mist was truly taking effect.

 _Oh, thank the gods_.

Valeria loaded all six chambers of her revolver, stuck the gun back into her holster, covering it with her coat. She put back on her Inquisitorial Medallion and grabbed a few of the silver-steel Sterling Coins. She had no idea if the locals would accept them or what they'd be worth, but it was worth trying. Silver was silver.

 _75% Silver, 25% Steel_. That was the official ratio of the silver Sterling Coin, and as a rule, the Crown didn't debase the currency much - there wasn't much need for them to do it themselves, and anyone who tried to do that at the mints had the entire Ministry of Finance and most of the Ministry of Justice come down on them at once.

A town like this had to have a tavern, or inn, or _somewhere_ she could buy a meal of some sort, and so she stepped out of the little house she seemed to have been given to hunt it up.

The people of the town were going about their business - though many stopped and pointed and murmured to their friends when they saw her. None approached, though, thankfully. _What am I supposed to say to someone if they do something like... fuck, ask for my blessing?_ She was a savior and a prophet... or something like that.

Off in the distance she saw a largish building on the far end of town, near the Chantry. It had smoke coming out of two chimneys, and seemed to be big enough to be a tavern. As she strode towards it, she heard the voice of the dwarf with the Crossbow - Varric - call out to her.

"Hey, Violet." she turned, furrowing her brow. He had to be talking to her, but...

"Violet?' She walked over to the dwarf, who was sitting in front of a fire, an open book on his lap and a quill in hand. She grabbed a handful of her hair, "This isn't violet."

"Close enough," Varric replied. "Your name is Valeria, your have purple hair... Violet just makes sense." Valeria just stared at him. "Nicknames are my thing. Unless you'd rather I call you Herald-"

"Violet will do, if you can't bring yourself to call me 'Valeria' or 'Captain Morn'," Valeria cut him off.

Varric chuckled, "I figured as much. Here, sit," He gestured at a spot across the fire. "I was just about to get up and head over to talk to you."

Valeria shook her head, "Can we walk and talk?" She gestured towards what she assumed was the tavern, "I was looking to get something to eat."

"Sure," Varric closed the book after blowing lightly on whatever he'd written in it and got up, walking alongside her as they strolled towards the tavern. "How are you feeling? I mean... here you are in some strange land you've never heard of, accused of mass murder, with that... thing," he gestured to her Mark, "on your hand and the whole world on your shoulders. Oh, and everyone thinks you're the Herald of Andraste. Who you don't believe in. That's a lot for anyone to deal with all at once."

Valeria looked over at him. He sounded like he was genuinely concerned about her mental state. _Nice to know someone cares._

"I'm feeling..." _freaked out lost angry sad missing home missing Kyseen_ "...confused," she settled on after a long moment.

"Just confused?" Varric looked over at her.

"That's the dominant thing." She looked over at him, seeing the skeptical expression on his face. "I have to focus on that - on the whole 'What am I doing?' and 'How did I get here?' question. I have to try to focus on answers for those... I don't..." She closed her eyes and inhaled. "I'm focusing on getting answers I might be able to get."

"Better than things you can't do anything about," Varric agreed, his voice light, then, more seriously, "I know you don't know me any better than anyone else around here, but if you ever need to talk... well, I don't think the Seeker would make for a very sympathetic ear."

 _She certainly doesn't act like it._ Then again, people were rarely as they seemed on the surface.

"I'll keep it in mind." They reached the tavern and Varric took her over to a small table in the corner. Apart from a barmaid, a barkeeper and a bard, there were only a few customers... everyone paused what they were doing and stared at her. After a long moment, the barmaid walked up to them. Valeria inhaled sharply at the reverent look on the woman's face, readying herself to have to put up with-

"Herald - oh Maker-" she started to babble.

 _That_.

"The Herald's a little too thirsty and hungry to focus on anything, Ana," Varric cut in. "If you could bring us something to drink first, as well?"

"Oh! Of course," the barmaid - Ana, presumably - darted over to the barkeep.

"Thank you," Valeria murmured. "I have no idea what I'd even say to whatever she was about to ask."

"Just offer her your blessing, that sort of thing," Varric offered.

"I can hardly offer a blessing from a god I don't worship," Valeria hissed.

"I didn't say it had to be from Andraste or the Maker. The key to a good half-truth is to let the other person to fill in the details for themselves," Varric smirked.

Valeria shook her head, "I'm not built to tell half-truths, or lies or... anything else like that. That was never my responsibility."

"What was your responsibility, if I can pry?"

Valeria shook her head, "I'd rather ask questions about here - this place. What's actually going on, then on what's back home."

Varric chuckled, "Alright, for now, sure. But I am going to get your story sometime," the dwarf promised. "What do you want to know?" The barmaid returned with two tankards of ale. Valeria contemplated asking for something else, then decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Besides, there was the risk they didn't have good, clean drinking water here. Even in Kantrias, in the rural areas, you had to be careful of the water sometimes.

 _And this place probably hasn't even heard of the germ theory._

"Let's start with you - you're not a mage, templar or member of the Chantry. So what were you doing here when the Conclave blew up? Spectator?"

Varric shook his head, "Nothing like that. I was in Haven enjoying the good Seeker's mandatory hospitality when everything went boom."

"You were a prisoner?"

"Seeker Pentaghast wouldn't have put it like. She wanted me there to tell my story to the Divine, to the whole Conclave. Get the true version of what happened in Kirkwall. I guess she thought it might help the peace talks."

It took Valeria a few seconds - more seconds than she liked - to place 'Kirkwall' and realize it would be important.

"You were there? When that terrorist - Anders? - blew up the Chantry and started the war?"

"There? I was right next to the middle of it. But it was more than just Anders - Knight-Commander Meredith and her Red Lyrium Idol were also to blame. And Hawke blames herself for all of it, even if she's wrong." Valeria's confusion must have shown on her face, because Varric smiled a little ruefully, "Right. It's so much common knowledge - or at least, versions of it - that I didn't think you wouldn't know."

He took a sip of his ale, then started to explain: "Blondie - Anders - was... well, he was a friend of Hawke's. It would be a stretch to say I was friends with him, but I liked him well enough. He could be intense, and the whole abomination thing was weird, but he ran a free clinic in Darktown and all he wanted at first was freedom for his people. For mages. Hard to hate a guy just for wanting freedom."

 _Well, it's not that simple..._ She'd lost friends to Tessoi "freedom fighter" terrorists. Not close friends, thankfully, but still, friends. She could hate them for wanting freedom so much they decided to act as they did.

"But things went... bad. For Anders, for Hawke, for Kirkwall." Varric shook his head, "Hawke was - is - the Champion of Kirkwall. She saved the city from a Qunari invasion, dueled the Arishok in single combat, beat him... she did a lot of good. Ran around trying to keep the peace as things kept boiling over. She was partial to the mages - hard for her not to be, her sister was one - but she didn't want a war. She didn't want things to explode."

Valeria looked at him carefully, "This... Hawke. She's the one who killed Anders, isn't she?"

Varric nodded, a distant look in his eyes for a moment. "Yeah... he knew it was the likely outcome. The man had wanted to be martyr for years, in hindsight. Hawke didn't want to kill him, but..."

"She had to." Valeria interrupted before he could finish his thought. "He started a war. A war that's led to more and more of his people dying all over the continent, from what Cassandra and Leliana told me." It didn't matter how sympathetic a man's cause, there was no justification for acts of terror, for the slaughter of uninvolved innocents. Rebellion could be justified... slaughter of innocents could not.

"Well, if Knight-Commander Meredith had accepted Anders' death as the end of it, accepted the execution of the guy who killed all those people, there wouldn't have been a war," Varric pointed out. "Instead, she decided to execute the entire circle."

"Terrorists are always trying to elicit an extreme response. It's still their fault for eliciting them," Valeria replied flatly. "This... Meredith. Whatever her crimes, this Anders still started a war."

"You don't see a lot of nuance in the world, do you?" His tone wasn't exactly disapproving, but there was a note of... maybe reproach? It was hard to say.

Valeria couldn't help but chuckle, despite everything. "No, not really. You're not the first person to suggest I have too... simple a view of the world. Black and white, right and wrong, good and evil." She sipped at her ale. _If I have to drink alcohol, I'd much rather good Korvallian Ice Wine..._ Maybe she could at least find a decent bottle of wine at some point to have every now and then.

"It comes from being an Inquisitor. We have to approach everything we do in the line of duty like that. The Gods don't have shades of gray, for most things. A thing is right, or a thing is wrong. Of course, it can't always be easy to know - you need all the information, and it can be... complicated. But the complication isn't about a lack of clarity, but simply about which side of the divide it falls down on, when all the facts are weighed."

Valeria sighed, "After a while, you get used to thinking of the world like that. Kyseen was always trying to get me to..." Valeria realized what she was saying, how her thoughts had drifted, and closed her mouth.

"Kyseen?" Varric raised an eyebrow, then held up a hand, quickly. "If you don't want to talk about it-"

Valeria allowed herself another chuckle, this one much more wistful. "The problem is that I always want to talk about Kyseen. And there's a very distinct possibility I'll never see her again." She closed her eyes. "If I start talking about her, I'll be focusing more and more on that latter fact. I'd rather not."

"Fair enough," Varric nodded.

"Why are you still here?" Valeria asked, curiously. "I mean, you didn't come here of your own volition... I doubt Cassandra would force you to stay now."

"No, she wouldn't," Varric agreed. "She even invited me to leave - I get the distinct feeling she doesn't like having me around. But - there's a giant hole in the sky. Demons are running everywhere, and the war between the mages and templars is only going to get worse now. I can't exactly sit on the sidelines. No one can. I've got connections with the Merchant's Guild and through them, all over the Free Marches, and beyond. And you've seen what I can do with Bianca-"

"Bianca?" Valeria furrowed her brow. Then she remembered some of things Varric had shouted as they'd fought the demons. "Your crossbow."

"She's a lady without peer," Varric grinned, voice filled with pride. "Bianca and I have been through a lot over the years. She's never let me down." The grin faded quickly: "And as long as we've got the whole world falling apart, she and I are at the Inquisition's service."

"If only the rest of Thedas agreed with you," Valeria shook her head. "But from what Leliana and Cassandra said, everyone seems absorbed in mutual recriminations."

"They're scared. But if you can show them they you really can solve this problem, that you are the one to close the Breach - well, then you'll be able to get them to listen to you."

"And how exactly do I show them that?" Valeria said, once the barmaid had returned with their food - a few strips of meat - venison, she realized after she took a taste - lightly roasted small potatoes with some kind of herbs on them, and some cooked vegetables - she presumed - that she didn't recognize offhand. As well a small chunk of dark bread.

It was quite good. Simpler fare than she was used to when she wasn't on the road, but better than she'd worried she'd get in a place this primitive.

After they'd both had a few bites, Varric spoke, "I get that there's a lot you don't want to talk about, about your home. But you've got to give me something, Violet. I'm burning with curiosity here. You have magic, but you're not a mage. You're not Andrastian - you called on gods I've never even heard of - but you're as devout as the Seeker."

Valeria inhaled and exhaled slowly, then nodded. "How about we trade? I tell you some things about my homeland, you tell me things about Thedas. I've got a lot of questions."

"Seems fair," Varric agreed.

"Alright then," Valeria took her revolver from its holster and rested it on the table between them. "I hear the Qunari," whoever exactly they were she still wasn't entirely clear, "have an explosive powder called Gaatok." Varric nodded. "Well my people call it gunpowder - and it serves as the centerpiece of our weapons technology. This revolver is a relatively new thing, only a few years old. But muskets? Rifles? We've been using those for quite a while. I'm no expert on all the details of how they work, but... well, a Kantrian Army is very different from the kind of army people around here would field..."

She'd spent longer than she'd expected asking questions of Varric and trading details about Kantrias and the wider continent of Bayetz. She wasn't sure if Varric believed her when she talked about Lizardmen, Shadiran, Vampires, Dhampirs and Centaurs, among other things. In turn, she learned, among other things -

That _Dragons existed on Thedas!_

 _ **DRAGONS!**_

Okay, granted, apparently they were just big animals that could breathe fire, ice or electricity, not intelligent, speaking creatures with magical powers, like the old records suggested had been true on Bayetz, but still.

 _ **DRAGONS!**_

Despite her half-dose of the mist, Valeria had almost gotten giddy at that news, at the thought of her childhood dreams of seeing a Dragon might actually come true some day. She'd asked about people riding dragons, and Varric had suggested that trying it was a good way to commit suicide.

Which sounded about right for how things were reported on Bayetz in the ancient records and stories that had come down.

 _Well, that's one childhood dream that might happen, I suppose I can't expect another to be viable at the exact same time._

More useful had been what Varric had had to say about the Templars in Kirkwall. He had an outsider's perspective, and apart from being friends with a few mages - the sister of the woman Hawke and some elvish mage named Merrill - he didn't really have strong feelings on the issue. He wasn't a mage, wasn't a templar, and while she got the idea he was Andrastian, he was clearly not concerned about finer points of doctrine.

Valeria had spent the rest of the day back in her cabin, reading the _Chant of Light_ for a bit before moving on to Varric's _Tale of the Champion_ \- all about the events in Kirkwall that had led up to the start of the Mage-Templar war she'd landed in the middle of.

He'd promised her nothing in the book was a lie, but had said that some things had been left out, and other parts might have been... sensationalized. But it would give her a good idea. And as fiction went, it was quite engrossing.

But now it was the next day, and she had been called to meet with Cassandra, Leliana and the other two members of the little council that seemed to be running the show.

"Does it still hurt?" Cassandra asked, looking to the mark after greeting her at the doors to the Chantry.

"Not really. But it is very noticeably... _there_." Valeria replied, keeping her breathing even and level. She looked over at Cassandra as they reached the door to the back room. She quite definitely found the other woman attractive, but it wasn't quite as overwhelmingly 'holy gods she's fucking hot' as it had been yesterday, thankfully.

 _Then it really was the lack of mist and the stress talking_.

"We take our victories where we can. It has started the process, and now -" shifting her focus from Valeria to the meeting room ahead of them - "now we might be able to finish it." Cassandra opened the door into the room and Valeria followed her in.

The war room now had three faces in it, two of them unfamiliar. One was a dark-skinned woman wearing fancy, but functional clothing, carrying an ingenious slanted piece of wood with a candle resting atop it, and papers on the wood itself. Illuminating the papers she was working on while she stood, even if there was dim lighting where she was.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Chief Diplomat," Cassandra said, indicating the woman in question.

Josephine had an active, cautious and calculating look in her eye as she looked Valeria over, but there didn't seem to be any ill intent or coldness in her calculation. More that Josephine was just taking stock of her.

 _Well, I'm doing the same, aren't I?_

"A pleasure, Captain Morn," she nodded at Valeria respectfully.

"Likewise. Valeria is fine for casual conversation however, if you'd prefer," Valeria replied, mirroring Josephine's nod.

"And this is Commander Cullen, commander of the Inquisition's forces" Cassandra pointed to the one man in the room, a tall, blonde haired man with short, curly hair, wearing some kind of metal armor, functional and well-used, but still imposing. More notable were the feathered pauldrons of the armor, creating a sort of elaborate collar to the armor, in a manner of speaking.

Cullen looked much like he'd been described in Varric's book. He was a handsome man, Valeria couldn't deny that, but the slightly hollow cast to his features detracted from that. He looked... tired. Stressed. Like he was getting neither enough sleep nor enough to eat.

 _He must be under a lot of strain._ Especially if he was a former templar, and given some of the experiences he'd had in Kirkwall, going from _Tale of the Champion_. He had come off something of a mixed bag in Varric's eyes, judging by the book, but Valeria could respect the man's dedication to his duty and respect for the chain of command until the end - perhaps he should have gone against orders sooner, but it wasn't easy to do.

Valeria had fortunately never been ordered to do so something that truly troubled her conscience. Cullen, however, had, and it had to have taken a toll on him until he finally broke with Knight-Commander Meredith.

"Such as they are," Cullen said softly. "We lost many men in the valley, and I fear we may lose more before this ends." He nodded to Valeria, "regardless, Captain, hopefully you can help end this."

"That is the plan Commander," Valeria gave respect to his military rank. The Inquisition had never had 'Commander' as a rank, but the Royal Navy did, and given that he was an independent commander of an entire military force, it seemed more likely Cullen had the effective rank of General for the Inquisition, at least as a Kantrian soldier would figure it.

"You know Leliana," Cassandra indicated the redhead again.

"My position here-" Leliana started, but Valeria interrupted.

"Is espionage. You're a spy... well, Spymaster, more likely, since you're not in the field." Valeria raised an eyebrow, daring Leliana to offer some other answer, but the other woman did not.

"Quite," Leliana agreed. "What gave it away?"

"I've known quite a few spies, on my side and not on my side. And a few spymasters," not counting the Minister of Security - Kyseen's boss - there had been the Inquisitor-General in charge of more... covert operations of the Karelist Inquisition, and of course that Shadiran spymaster for hire in Qustaros she'd had to deal with a few times, to find her targets.

At least Leliana didn't give off the same greasy and slimy air as Phalakar Mostok had.

"So it wasn't hard to pick up the little hints. Besides, you're not really trying to hide your role, are you?"

"Not exactly, no," Leliana agreed. "As discussed yesterday, there are two possible options for how to deal with the Breach... in theory."

"Get a large number of mages to channel more power into the mark and close the Breach that way, or use Templars to suppress the Breach and thus make it easier to close that way," Valeria recalled. She didn't know enough about either option to speak to the viability. _Why couldn't I have studied more into the inner workings of magic before I came here?_ She looked to Cullen. "How... how exactly does that work, if I may ask?"

"I mean, this is magic," Valeria held up her left hand and called up a ward, the air before her glowing a shimmering gold for a moment, before she collapsed it - Cullen and Cassandra had, probably on instinct, grabbed the hilts of their blades in response to her show of magic.

"I can use it to ward off enemy magics or the touch of demons, spirits or the undead, but it is still magic. But as I understand it, what templars do is not magic. So... how exactly do they cancel out the magic of mages? How would they be able to suppress the breach?" She looked to Cullen.

"That was magic? I sensed nothing... no... no use of the Fade." Cullen stared at her. "I didn't believe it when they said..." Cullen shook his head, seemingly as much to stop himself staring as anything else.

"Where I come from, there is no Fade... or at least, we've never heard of it," Valeria nodded. "Even our mages channel the Aether, which... doesn't really seem to be anything like your Fade, from what little I know of both. I channel power from my gods - as long as they deem me worthy of having it, anyway." Cullen started to say something - Valeria wasn't sure if it was a protest or something, but she held up her hand to cut him off.

"Commander, I'll be happy to have a theological discussion with any of you when there's time." 'Happy' was perhaps an overstatement. "I'm not here to question your faith or your Maker or make you question either. I'm not a missionary. Let us simply allow that I have magic that doesn't draw from the Fade."

"Obviously," Cullen said after a long moment, looking at her renewed caution and wariness. "Regardless... as to your question - magic, except for blood magic, draws from the Fade, bringing power across the Veil to warp and weaken the rules of our reality - making fire appear from thin air, make things fly across a room, make an injury heal itself. All the things magic can do." He took a long, somewhat shuddering breath, then went on:

"With the use of Lyrium, templars can... strengthen reality, so to speak. Strengthen the Veil - and thus make it harder or even impossible for a mage to access the Fade. Which is one of the reasons blood magic is so dangerous."

"Because it doesn't rely on the Fade?"

"Exactly," Cassandra nodded.

"And you think that enough Templars could allow for the Veil to be strengthened enough that I could close the Breach on my own?" Cullen nodded in response to her question.

"Purely speculation," Leliana dismissed the whole idea without moving, hands clasped behind her back. "The rebel mages are our best solution - we know that it is merely a matter of-"

"I know better than you what Templars are capable of!" Cullen interrupted, making a sort of cutting motion with his hands as he did so. "And it's as much 'speculation' as the idea of simply throwing more magic at the Breach and hoping everything doesn't blow up again!"

"You do have a point, Commander," Valeria said after a long moment, inhaling slowly. She started to pace a little, but kept her voice calm and level, closing her eyes a moment to help center herself and keep herself as serene as she could. "There are limits to how much power the human body can channel through it. That is always the great weakness of all magic users on Bayetz, be they mages, diviners or witches - it takes a toll on the body to channel that magic through you."

"On the other hand," she looked at him, and then the rest of the leadership of the Inquisition, "in my experience, the answer to magic is usually more magic. On a... third hand, as it were, the magic here in Thedas doesn't work like the magic I know, and I've never seen anything even close to the Breach." Valeria shook her head, then looked to Cassandra and Josephine. "Where do you two stand on this question?" It was clear that Leliana supported using the mages to close the Breach, and Cullen the templars. The latter was hardly surprising, given Cullen's former allegiance.

 _And judging from yesterday, Leliana seems... partial to the mages cause._ Which meant that it was just as likely politics that was informing their choices. Biases serving as blinders.

 _Whereas I have no stakes in this matter._

"I am... uncertain," Cassandra admitted. "I would prefer, in many ways, use the Templars, if it does in fact work. But I am unsure if it will. It seems more likely to me that using the mages would be more effective. But I worry at the price they might demand for their cooperation."

"They stand to suffer all the same as everyone else if the Breach isn't closed," Valeria pointed out, without heat. "But if people were perfectly selfless..." she turned to Josephine after trailing off. "And you?"

"Either choice will upset powerful people in Thedas - the Templars were the sword and shield of the Chantry, defenders of the common people against Malifecars and Abominations... but they squandered that goodwill when they went rogue, harming just as many innocents as the worst of the rebel mages." Josephine went on, gesturing a bit with her free hand, which held a quill.

"Mages, of course, are distrusted, if not hated, by many across Thedas. But they have powerful allies - King Alistair of Ferelden has allowed them many to seek refuge in Redcliffe, and he is merely the most open. Many noble families in Ferelden, Orlais and the Free Marches have mages amongst their number - some disown them or have little to do with them, but others retain ties."

"So either choice will make us enemies. On the other hand, can we really have more enemies than we do?" Valeria pointed out.

"Perhaps not. The Chantry has denounced you, us and the Inquisition as heretics and rabble, and most of the leading figures outside the Chantry are adopting a 'wait and see' approach. At the moment, the question of whether we ask the Templars or Mages for help is a moot one." Josephine concluded.

"So you four have time to continue to debate what the solution to this conundrum is. But you didn't ask me here to reiterate what you all already know. So one of you must have an idea of how we might get around this problem." Well, in theory. Otherwise, why call her in? She didn't get to make the call of who to ask for help - she wasn't in charge of the Inquisition.

 _Though given that it is my hand the mark we'll all be relying on is in, it would be reasonable that I have some voice in which choice we take._ Valeria was quite concerned that channeling all that power through her could kill her - _before_ she could actually close the Breach.

Leliana started to explain the plan, such as it was: "There is a Reverend Mother, Mother Giselle, tending to refugees in the Hinterlands has asked to speak to you. She knows the key players left in the Chantry's leadership better than I. With her help, we may be able to convince the Chantry to stop denouncing us - stop denouncing you."

"So I should go to these Hinterlands, then?" Cassandra and Leliana nodded. "What should I expect, when I'm there? Refugees usually means there's something dangerous they're running from."

"Quite," Leliana confirmed. "Based on what my scouts have reported, even though most of the mages and templars that weren't present at the Conclave withdrew to Redcliffe or Val Royeaux respectively, the more extreme elements of both have set up bases in the Hinterlands and are fighting each other - and anyone else who gets in the way."

"They're all little better than bandits," Cullen nodded. "I've sent what men we can spare to the Crossroads, but they're on their own and overwhelmed. In addition to the mages and templars, there's reports of bandits, wolves driven mad and several smaller rifts."

"And I'm the only one who can close those," Valeria rested her hand on the table and looked on the map, observing the noted locations of rifts and known sites of conflict between the mages and templars in the Hinterlands.

"If you can close those rifts, and help deal with the mages and templars still fighting, protecting the refugees and restoring some order to the region, it will give the Inquisition more credibility in the eyes of many in Ferelden and Orlais," Josephine added.

"And make it easier in the long run for our own forces to maintain that order, especially if we can find good bases of our own to claim," Cullen added.

"All that, in addition to Mother Giselle's assistance, may give us enough space to convince the mages - or the templars," Leliana added that second bit quite quickly, "to hear us out and assist you in closing the Breach."

"Sounds reasonable. When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible would be ideal. Unless you object, tomorrow," Cassandra said.

"It's your call, Cassandra, not mine," Valeria replied. "Tomorrow it is."

"Good. In the meantime, you mentioned wanting a proper suit of armor."

"I did," Valeria agreed. "My coat is enchanted and can protect me against attack, but it can't stand up to endless punishment, especially against swords, axes and arrows, and other such weapons."

"Harritt can fit you for armor, and he should have one you can use in the meantime," Cassandra explained.

"A good plan," Cassandra made for the door and Valeria followed, though she turned back to look at the other three, "Thank you," she gave them a quick nod before continuing after Cassandra. When she caught up to the other woman.

"I'm not interested in wearing something as heavy as your armor," Valeria told her. "My training with the blade was focused on speed and evasion, and too heavy armor would ruin that."

"I am finding it hard to believe that armor was truly so uncommon among your people," Cassandra pushed the doors open as they exited out into Haven.

"It wasn't unheard of," Valeria allowed. "Some specific units within the Army, some mercenaries and bodyguards, some of the Royal Guard had armor of one sort or another, but the fact is, armor that is good enough to stand up to a musket or a rifle-" Valeria realized Cassandra wouldn't recognize those terms.

"Muskets and rifles are larger versions of my revolver, essentially," Valeria added, and Cassandra nodded, and Valeria went on, repeating herself, "any armor that would be complete effective against modern guns, at least at close or medium range, would be too expensive, or too heavy to outfit an entire army with. Armor is expensive, even light armor."

"And thus you were never trained with armor in mind, either your own or your enemy's?" Cassandra nodded.

"As a rule, no," Valeria confirmed. "I've gone up against people wearing armor heavier than thick leather twice in my ten years in the field - and both times, I just shot them all at close range, sooner or later." Valeria looked to her pistol, "But I don't have the ammunition to indulge in that constantly anymore."

"Once Harritt has given you a temporary suit of chainmail, we shall spar," Cassandra said, making a statement rather than an offer.

"Very well," Valeria agreed. She couldn't deny that the idea was a good one - and the part of her that found Cassandra attractive also agreed with the idea of getting to spar with the other woman. It was a small, but undeniably pleasant bonus.


	5. Worldviews and Perspectives

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age. I do own Valeria Morn and the world from which she comes.

 **Author's Note:** I have no good excuses for how long it took for this chapter to happen. Just, you know, standard life shit, mixed inspiration concerns, and so on.

Just because it's not a very common term in regular parlance, I thought I'd clarify here - the term 'Alatrist' refers to someone who believes that gods or god or some deific being exist (they're not an atheist) but they don't worship them - usually because they consider worshipping them unnecessary, unwise, silly or anything along those lines. Being that Valeria comes from a place where the gods appear to have a very direct and clear impact on the world - granting spells to their followers - true atheism is rare there.

As always, there's a lot of Valeria's internal monologue - I offer this because it is important to understand how she sees the world of Thedas, in comparison to her own (which, despite her own coloring of events and details, is not actually better than Thedas in _every_ way, and Kantrias and her Church are both flawed in their own ways), but also because Valeria herself will be no more static and unchanging in the face of Thedas than Thedas will be in the face of her and the Inquisition.

Thanks to personnongrata/verynonyideas for beta-reading

Inquisitor-Captain

By Kylia

Chapter 5: Worldviews and Perspectives

It was not a simple thing, getting used to wearing armor - even chainmail armor, which was lighter and easier to move in than some of the other options - when fighting. Nor were her styles of fighting easily applicable to Thedas. Few people used the heavier swords favored by most in Thedas - rapiers, sabers, and other lighter blades were the order of the day, and though she didn't lose every bout she did against Cassadra as they travelled, sparring every evening so she could practice, she lost almost all of them.

The chainmail she wore wasn't fitted to her, though that mattered less with chainmail than other armors, she gathered. Still, the smith, Harrit, told her he'd have one made to her measurements - which he took - when she returned from the Hinterlands, and Cassandra assured her that would be good.

Travelling with her and Cassandra were Solas, and Varric, being among the few other people at Haven she felt comfortable talking to for any length of time. Most of the rest got too worshipful, or asked things of her she could not give - blessings, assurances that the Maker hadn't abandoned them...

Answers, about how she had survived, and all others at the Temple had died.

Varric didn't press, and Solas seemed to know more than she did. She had been unsure about bringing the dwarf, since Cassandra clearly didn't like him, but he was handy in a fight, and she needed to learn more about Thedas - and he was the one to tell her the most, given that he was a storyteller.

And he clearly liked hearing himself talk, at least to a point.

The five days to the Hinterlands, first down the mountains and then across some of the lowlands of Ferelden, relatively unpopulated regions nonetheless, were largely uneventful. They passed a few would be pilgrims, heading to Haven, to be blessed by the Herald of Andraste, or to join the Inquisition. Or just to gawk at it, or to be involved, in some sense, with something that some claimed would change the face of Thedas.

 _Isn't the whole point, though, to stop Thedas from being changed?_ Restoring order, stopping the Breach from destroying Thedas or reshaping it entirely... and if the Breach truly was what it seemed, stopping it from someday reaching Bayetz...

 _If it ever starts to grow once more, it could... someday, reach all the way across whatever distance of oceans I crossed to come here..._

As they drew closer to the formal region known as the Hinterlands, and passed a few small villages and various somewhat isolated farms, Valeria could almost trick herself into thinking she was in some rural part of the Kingdom. Not Vissaros - not enough hills, once they reached the lowlands - but maybe parts of Inquestra, or Leutria. Definitely like Falkan.

Add in a few steamboats on the rivers, maybe some old muskets in the hands of hunters, and Karelist clergy, and it really _would_ have felt like rural Kantrias. Life in the distant countryside was more or less the same everywhere, it seemed.

Every day, after sparing, she was left nearly exhausted - she'd wear the unfamiliar armor all day, then have to fight in it. But she still had the energy to speak to her three travelling companions, trying to learn more about them, and more importantly, the place and mess she'd founderself lost in.

Varric was gregarious and happy to share details, but he was also the one who wanted to know the most about her homeland, and her past. He had shown remarkable sensitivity about avoiding topics she didn't want to discuss - Kyseen, or really, any of the people she'd left behind she cared about. Friends, allies, compatriots.

But she did learn a lot from him - more about the adventures of the Champion, the real ones, not in his story. She found herself quite interested in this 'Kiandra Hawke', and her approach to things in Kirkwall - the woman had done everything she could to keep things from getting worse, and yet every time, she had failed. It was a study in failure, but failure because reality was simply too big for one person to change on their own. The tides of change and history could not be held back by one.

Or that was her takeaway, anyway. And it applied to her, here. She couldn't do this herself - thankfully she didn't have to - and more importantly, she could not correct the myriad of flaws and injustices she saw here. Even if she managed to negotiate some truce between Mages and Templars to get their help with the Breach, she could not hope to fix the underlying problems all by herself.

She shouldn't seek to change Thedas, even if the changes seemed so obviously and manifestly better.

Not on her own. Which burned at every instinct in her that told her how wrong _everything_ about the handling of mages in Thedas was.

In exchange for the things he told her about his past adventures with Hawke, about life in Thedas and the history and culture of the people that lived there, Varric dragged more details of her own life out of her. She lacked his talents as a storyteller, but did tell him of some of her many and sundry missions criss-crossing Kantrias and all her provinces, hunting heretics, renegade witch covens, law-breaking mages, pagans and all their ilk. She didn't find them particularly exciting, but then, they were her life. After a while, most missions felt repetitive.

It was one of the many reasons...

One of the reasons she'd enjoyed working with Kyseen so much. _Sarcastic alatrist and frustrating at the best of times..._ nothing had ever been **boring** , or **repetitive** when Kyseen had been around.

Not that she'd ever told the other woman - no point in letting Kyseen know she was even capable of being bored. It would have undermined her image.

Of course... Well, that train of thought, as all trains of thought regarding Kyseen, brought her back to the...

... other things Valeria had never told her.

Things that, in all honesty, she probably never would be able to.

 _Let's be honest here, Valeria._ She'd told herself, more than once, trying to stay realistic, _the odds of you surviving this are low... the odds of you somehow getting home from here, when you're still not sure where 'here' is..._

 _Well, those are minute._

The other area where she'd not indulged Varric's curiosity was her revolver - she had sixty one bullets. She could hardly waste any with a demonstration, at least not without that demonstration also killing an enemy.

"You'll see how it works when battle is joined," she'd told him.

"The thing about being in a battle is you're too busy fighting to watch the cool shit everyone else does," Varric had countered. Which Valeria knew wasn't true, not if there really was someone worth watching in the battle.

No matter what Valeria tried, her thoughts kept returning to Kyseen.

Such as even when talking to Solas - one would think that the soft-spoken bald elf mage would be nothing like the brash, outspoken - when not pretending to be someone else - spy and assassin would have nothing in common, but on the subject of the Maker, of gods in general, he had a sort of mildly amused contempt for the whole idea. She tried to ask him about the Dalish gods, and he'd spoken little of them but to deride those among the Dalish who followed them. He had even less time for Andraste and the Maker, and had little regard for the idea of her being the Herald of Andraste - on which she agreed with him.

He'd asked her a few brief questions about the Karelist gods, but with such a maddening arrogance behind his questions that seemed even worse than Kyseen's alatrism that she stopped speaking on the subject with him.

But that arrogant, amused contempt for religion, for the notion of worship, for paying homage to gods, any gods, was so reminiscent of Kyseen that it hurt.

At least the rest of discussions with him never tread too close to thinking of her - he wanted to know more about how her magic worked, and though she was unable to explain it in terms he understood, she did demonstrate all the magics she knew, such as they were.

It was quite satisfying to see that the man genuinely seemed to have no clue how to respond to the reality in front of him. Her wards could repel his blasts of ice against her, but they worked nothing like a 'Barrier Spell' as he knew them, and the utter lack of the Fade in her magic seemed to disconcert him. Though it was hard to tell - he was good enough at guarding his emotions to be nearly impossible to read.

Nearly.

She did also speak with Solas about his people, and what little she could remember about the elves of Bayetz, dredged up from schooling as a youth and a teenager, learning the history of the world, the role of elves in the earliest days of the continent, warring with the Dragons, conflicting with Arelis as it rose to dominate the continent through it's mastery of the trade routes, surviving Arelis and then... just sort of vanishing.

She apologized for how little she knew, since it was all just a sketch of an outline, really, but he was grateful for the information. He told her that in his dreams, he walked the Fade, observing the memory of the distant past - even the distant past of the ancient domain of the elves, before the coming of humans.

"I have never heard of the ancient Elvhen traveling to a distant continent," Solas had said, "But there is much that lies forgotten over the thousands of years that have passed since the fall of the ancient empire of the People."

From Solas, she learned some more about the workings of magic, and how Lyrium and the Fade played a role. Much of it went over her head, because she truly lacked the frame of reference to understand it, but she did get the basics. Ultimately, though her magic and his came from very different sources, it worked on similar principles in its execution.

He also offered a different perspective on the world, than Cassandra and Varric. He was no partisan of the rebel mages, but seemed to find them more admirable than the templars. He seemed to disdain, or at least, have a distaste for most of his kind - the Dalish and the elves in the alienages.

Both systems - the nomadic, tribal, pagan Dalish, and the oppressive, foul alienages, offended her on a very visceral level, like so much about Thedas.

In a perfect world, Valeria would be home in Kantrias - and Kantrian soldiers and Karelist missionaries would be here, turning this continent into a place that made sense. Not that she could see the Queen endorsing any such invasion.

 _Nor is it really truly worth the cost... what it would mean to Kantrias to expend so much blood and treasure._ She shuddered to think what Voluz, or the Free Cities, or even worse,Telvir, would do if Kantrias spent its armies and fleets and treasury halfway - or more - across the world in something that would no doubt turn out to be Tessos, writ large.

 _Guns and cannons and airships and integrated magic can only take us so far. Though I suppose we wouldn't be banning the Chantry, just forcing it to accept people choosing to convert to Karelism... or any other legal faith._

The Maker wasn't a pagan god, the Chant of Light no pagan text - the role of nature barely came up at all, and when it did, it was understood to exist largely in service to the Maker's children.

Not a pagan faith, no.

But it was still insane, like the entire continent.

She kept that to herself - especially that - when she spoke with Cassandra. She tried to avoid too many one on one conversations with the Seeker. Part of her wanted to - it was always nice to be able to appreciate beauty, and she deeply respected Cassandra as a warrior, a woman of conviction, and a woman of faith.

But Cassandra always seemed to be on the verge of demanding to have a conversation about her own Faith, about the Maker, about Andraste... she didn't think that was a conversation she truly wanted to have right now.

So she did speak with Cassandra, but she kept the topic to the one of weapons, and training, and combat in Thedas, and the things the Inquisition needed to do. Often before and after sparring.

She didn't want to insult Cassandra, or her faith. But she didn't want to pretend that she respected the Maker, or frankly, most of the Chant of Light. Or the Chantry, as a whole. And as she grew more and more irritable without the Mist, as she developed that telltale agitation, that superabundance of energy, the odds of being unable to stop herself from doing just that and more increased. Even as it was, her fingernails spent a great deal of time digging into the flesh at the base of her hand, short though they were, to try to ever so slightly stave off that need.

That need was another reason why she'd insisted on sparring as much as possible, insisted on always taking the first watch - if she exhausted herself enough, she could perhaps sleep a few hours, even that superabundance of energy only lasted so long, against so much tiredness.

But she could feel her irritableness - she'd nearly bitten the heads of Solas, Cassandra and Varric off, more than once, especially when they argued amongst themselves, and she knew it was all to likely that she'd lose the battle.

She should say something, let them know in advance...

But what good would it do? How would they react? They wouldn't understand. She had always been able to control her use of the Mist. They wouldn't grasp that.

But then, she'd always had access to more.

And now...

And now she had three doses left. And potentially a lifetime to face without it.

So it was a conversation to avoid, for now. She changed the topic whenever any conversation seemed to tread close, and Cassandra - for now - seemed unwilling to force the issue.

Yet.

Valeria did want to know more about Cassandra, but she was reticent to speak much about her past. She did learn that the woman was a distant relation to the Royal Family of Nevarra, and Varric had told her that she'd famously slain a Dragon, and the whole story of that, or at least the version that he knew - which may or may not bear a relation to the truth.

Cassandra had been close with the previous Divine, her Right Hand, and had been a Seeker for much of her life, and quite torn when most Seekers defected with the Templars, away from the Chantry. But her loyalty to the Divine had superseded her loyalty to the Lord Seeker.

The more she learned about Cassandra, the more she was intrigued by her - the woman reminded Valeria of herself, in many ways, and yet, in others, not at all. Perhaps most fundamentally, in the way they behaved - Valeria, though was getting harder as she resisted the urge to take another half-dose of the mist, to try to stretch it more, take it only when she vitally needed it, was a woman who favored calm serenity, trying to approach the world with perfect equanimity as she pursued her duties...

Valeria fought with well-trained and drilled forms and styles, her skill with the blade more taught than innate, and she practiced them with rigor, mixing them to achieve different results, but she was no instinctive bladeswoman.

Cassandra was no wild berzerker, and she too fought with clear training, but she was almost an artist with her sword and shield, unafraid to innovate in a battle, or so it seemed as they sparred, and she was a woman who had strong passions,and wasn't afraid of them - her thirst to see justice done for Divine Justinia, she fought with a passionate drive. She embraced her anger and fury at what had happened - though she was able to prevent it from ruling her. She did restrain her passions, control them - but she did not shun them, as Valeria always tried to.

 _And in not doing so, she doesn't find herself in need of anything like the Mist to do it..._

 _ **-Inquisitor Captain-**_

The Crossroads were in chaos - Corporal Vale and his men engaged in a stand against more numerous attackers, from both sides. Templars on one side, full armor, shields and swords - and some archers backing them up from a distance.

On the other side, mages, swarming, staves glowing as they threw spells at the Inquisition soldiers, at the templars...

And at the civilians. A bolt of flame hit a woman cowering underneath a cart, a blast of lightning hit a fleeing older man in the back.

But the templars were no better - her eyes racing over the battlefield, Valeria saw a family - two young parents, the mother holding a very young child - and then a templar charged after them as they tried to flee, raising his sword to attack the mother from behind.

She wasn't really close enough to aim well, but Valeria didn't care - she didn't need to hit, just get him away - she lined up the shot, her eyes still racing, bouncing around the battle as she pulled back the hammer - it was a force of will to return her focus to him, as he closed the last few feet between himself and the mother, sobbing as she tried to escape, and then she fired.

The sound of the bullet was loud, cracking through the air, and drawing attention from every combatant for a split second, the projectile punching through the Templar's armor and into his stomach from behind - he stumbled and nearly fell, his blade missing the young couple by mere inches it seemed, but missing them nonetheless. The would be child-killer dropped to one knee, but Valeria didn't give him a moment to breath - she took aim at the nearly still target as he tried to stand, and fired again after taking several steps closer, the surreal stillness of the battle stretching for a second, two seconds -

And a second bullet punched through the Templar's helmet, dropping him to the ground moments later.

 _59 bullets._ Valeria knew it was a bad idea, but she had to exploit this - as the combatants began to fight once more, Valeria fired again, and again,and again, three more shots, each at one Templar, all archers aiming at Inquisition soldiers. One was felled completely, another dropped his bow and looked in mute surprise at the hole in his hand, and the last clutched his leg.

 _56 bullets._

In a fluid, practiced motion, she holstered her pistol, drew her saber and charged, running towards the fighting - she knew from her sparring with Cassandra that her saber was not well equipped to go against the Templars armor, and so she ran for the mages, her longcoat billowing behind her as she charged.

"In the name of Vitralia, your judgement is guilty, your sentence - death!" Valeria called out, out of instinct as much as anything else, but it got their attention, regardless - several mages cast fire at her, but she held up her free hand, calling up a defensive ward, watching their flames crash against her, moving closer - she reached one mage, slashing out with her saber, getting him in the arm as he swung at her with his staff, proving surprisingly adept with the weapon for a mage. But she was more adept - she ducked under the swing, at his legs, watching him stagger back to avoid the swing and drove the saber right into his stomach, watching his eyes open widely as left bled quickly from him - she lifted her leg, pushing him off her saber with her foot and moved on to the next, her ward blocking more spells as she moved onto the next mage.

In many ways, for the first time since she'd woken up in that cell, she felt like she was back home, in every way. The familiar act of slaughtering rebellious mages, slaughterers of innocents - she was loosely aware of the others, Cassandra and Solas addressing the Templars, Varric's crossbow tearing into the mages and the sword-bearing warriors - mercenaries, Scout Harding had said - fighting alongside them. He fired it far faster than she'd ever seen one fired before, the stopping power of the contraption deadly nearly to every foe hit.

She didn't have time to admire the craftsmanship of the weapon in Varric's hands, as one of those mercenaries came at her, swinging a massive two-handed sword. Gripping her saber with both hands, she brought it up, catching the blade, sliding backwards under the force of the blow as her saber scraped along her enemy's steel. Jumping backwards, away from him, she darted to the left, evading his swing, dropped to one knee and swung at his legs - though he dodged the attack, nimble on his feet despite his weapon and breastplate. Her own ability to continue moving hampered by the chainmail, her body urging her in fifteen different directions all at once as the battle and the demand for another dose of the mist warred in her mind.

She'd never fought someone using a weapon like this - she pulled back again, trying to get around him, but he kept up the attack - she wasn't stupid enough to try to catch the attack on her own blade again, however. Enchanted or not, a sword could only take so much punishment...

He swung for her head, and once more, she dropped to a knee, but this time, he was ready for it, switching his grip with even more surprising side and slashing diagonally downwards at her.

Valeria tried to drop and roll away from the swing, but the burden of the chainmail and her own inexperience with this sort of foe cost her dearly, and she nearly cried out in pain, biting her lip bloody as she felt the sword cut across her upper back, her coat reducing the force of the blow, the chainmail helping as well, but the distribution of the blow still leaving the rings of the armor digging into her, the coat itself no doubt torn for the moment there, sliced right through.

Valeria did not usually get hit, but she was no stranger to it, and or the pain of such brute, blunt force - but it wasn't something she felt often.

 _But this... this is not enough to stop me!_ Spitting out the blood in her mouth, she jumped up and backwards, onto a rough stone half-wall. The mercenary charged her again, pulling his blade up from the ground and swinging -

Valeria took a step back, dropping off the wall - and letting him run completely into it - he tried and failed to jump the wall. He didn't fall, but he stumbled forward, and that's all Valeria needed - her saber slashed across his exposed neck, thanks to the angle, the man fell, gurgling, his body draping over the half-wall.

The fight continued for a short time more, but her arrival - and that of Cassandra and the others just as much if not more - seemed to have served to rally the Inquisition's soldiers, and soon enough, the remaining mages and templars had been put to flight, leaving dozens of dead behind them, a refugee camp in ruins, flames still smouldering in several places, the work of both sides.

Valeria spat blood again, the iron taste disgusting in her tongue, but she'd bitten through her lip, so it was hardly a surprise. She took in the battlefield - Corporal Vale and his men were starting to gather, and Cassandra approached the man.

"So that's what that fancy shooter of yours does, then," Varric said, approaching, looking entirely unharmed. He collapsed his crossbow and slung it backover his back. "Handy."

"Very. I could have made much quicker work of all of... this, had I the bullets." She pulled her revolver from her holster, wincing, grunting, clenching her teeth a moment as the movement of her injured shoulder caused her body to scream at her. "Speaking of," she quickly emptied the spent cartridge and reloaded her gun. Shooting five bullets in one battle was an unacceptable waste, but she'd had to start with two, to save those civilians, refugees who did no wrong.

And with any luck, the survivors might have spread word of her gun. The mages would speak of her ward - far sturdier than any common barrier spell, from what Solas had said, for all that it only worked against magic.

"Still - Templar armor is some of the best in Thedas, and your gun went right through it," Varric shook his head. "And you say everyone has these?"

"Far from it - the revolver's quite new, and muskets are too cumbersome for smaller battles." But a foe with a brace of pistols could be quite deadly, in the kinds of fights she was used to. "But guns are the primary weapon of war."

"Andraste's tits..." he shook his head, looking around, "I'd heard the Templars and Mages left out in the open had gone crazy, but this... I won't say it's Kirkwall all over again, but you can certainly see it from here." He shook his head again, "well, maybe not."

"The mages may have rebelled against the Chantry for their oppression - an admirable goal, if the Law truly failed to provide for them," Valeria murmured, walking over to the body of one of the mages she'd killed and rolling the corpse over with her foot. It was a young man, perhaps even a boy, barely an adult. But he'd laughed as he'd fought, eager for battle, thirsting to kill...

"But these ones can't be called rebels, or even terrorists." At least the Tessoi Terrorists who fought, over a hundred years later, against the Kantrian conquest of their homeland and the outlawing of their pagan gods had a purpose when they used explosions and assassinations and manufactured riots...

They killed their own people, but there was a logic to their actions. A futile, pointless effort against the tide of history, one that she couldn't really understand why they could want.

But it was a clear purpose, a goal, and they acted to advance it. Not always perfectly, and never to success, but they understood this wasn't about slaughter.

"They've become bandits, or even less, truly. The madness and desperation of rebellion, no doubt." She turned from the dead boy, "But that's no excuse." She sighed, and turned to look at the approaching Solas and Cassandra. "Why were the templars slaughtering civilians?" She asked, "Why attack the Inquisition's soldiers?" She was fully aware they'd rebelled against the Chantry, but they seemed to have even less logic in their acts than the mages.

"War breeds a madness all its own, as you suggested," Solas offered. "And perhaps the Templars, restrained and addicted to Lyrium by the Chantry as they were, feel as though they were ill-used by the people of Thedas."

She couldn't deny that the elf had a point, but she looked to Cassandra, curious what the Seeker would say.

"I cannot deny that what Solas says rings true - for some Templars, believing themselves taught to hunt and kill mages and nothing more..." Cassandra shook her head, "It is an offense to even try to stand neutral. Likely they first tried to merely requisition resources, conscript able-bodied warriors to their cause. But as the common people resisted such-"

"They'd start to see everyone as the enemy. So mere bandits and less as well," Valeria nodded. "There will no doubt be more of them in the Hinterlands, and we must work to address all the rifts here, before we return to Haven." She looked around, looking for the telltale hat of a reverend mother in the Chantry.

 _Kyseen would be poking fun at those hats if she was here now._

"First, Mother Giselle," she said, picking a direction to see if she could find her. As she moved again, she winced once more, shifting her arm, sheathing her saber.

"You're injured," Cassandra observed, a slight concern in her voice. Valeria saw Solas approach, his hand glowing as he prepared a spell of healing, no doubt.

"Not much. I'll live," Valeria countered. But she didn't protest Solas giving her a small amount of healing magic, easing away the worst of the pain and making it so she could move her arm without a problem. "Thank you." She pulled off her coat, shrugging out of it quickly and looking at the back.

"I thought you said your coat was enchanted," Cassandra observed, "And yet it seems to have broken under one attack."

"All the enchantments in the world won't change that a coat is a coat. Besides, it's better against blunt force. But it's not broken," she pressed against the tear, the fabric closing against itself, and the same magic that kept her uniform and coat perpetually clean took effect, quickly fusing the tear closed, the fabric repairing itself and leaving no sign.

Even Solas seemed to look a little impressed at how easily it was fixed, and Cassandra looked troubled.

"Your people really use magic for something so simple? So freely?" Cassandra sounded... not afraid, but concerned, still - just not for Valeria. About her. Concerned _by_ her. And what she represented.

"This is still quite expensive - it takes a certain skill to enchant one of those long coats, skill that is in high demand, and several costly reagents to make the magic stick," Valeria explained. "But the Church has the resources to outfit every inquisitor with one." That didn't seem to make Cassandra look any less disturbed at the free use of magic in every level of her society.

"Speaking of your church," Varric asked, "What was that you shouted when you started attacking the mages?" They were walking and talking, the surviving refugees at the Crossroads coming out into the open, the Inquisition's soldiers hard at work clearing the bodies, soon joined by able-bodied civilians, many breaking down and sobbing as they saw dead friends and family.

 _Punishing these murderers must take priority._ The list of things that needed to be done in the Hinterlands was quite long - the Inquisition needed horses, and if they could get a rancher named Dennet to supply horses to the Inquisition, it would get the rest to agree to deal with them as well.

They needed to close the at least six or seven smaller rifts that had formed - the reports were unclear on just how many of the things there, possibly even more than that. There were bandits around the southern portions of the Hinterlands, preying on the roads, and of course, there were these mages and templars, so far gone as to be expelled by even the other rebels.

"You said you were judging them in the name of... Vitrella?" Varric went on, and Valeria shook her head.

"Vitralia - the First Judge," she corrected. "Goddess of punishment, justice and retribution. These... people," she gestured at the fallen enemies, "preyed on the innocent. Their sins were clear and manifest. Vitralia has no claim on their souls, since I'm sure most of them believed in your Maker-" she saw Cassandra's expression grow even more grave, and the Seeker seemed to be biting back a reaction - again - and perhaps having an even harder time of it than before.

"But none of you can object that they needed to die for what they were doing?" Valeria switched, wanting to avoid provoking the discussion with Cassandra that was no doubt coming eventually.

 _Delay it._ There was still too much she didn't understand about the Chantry and the Chant to be able to have a real discussion about this.

"No, I cannot," Cassandra agreed after a moment, accepting the common ground; Varric made a noise of agreement as well. Solas said nothing one way or another.

With the rush of battle fading quickly, Valeria once more resumed looking around the camp, drumming her fingers against her leg, lightly at first, but with more force and speed as they walked.

As they started to walk through the camp, several people approached the four of them - some were approaching Cassandra, the clear, known figure of authority, the Seeker. But others approached her, speaking in reverent tones as they asked for her blessing, or thanked her for saving them, or for stabilizing the Breach.

Others, though, standing at a distance, glared at her, or cowered from her gaze when she looked to them, afraid of her - perhaps still thinking her guilty.

"Please, your worship-" one started, pleading for a blessing. 'Thank you, Lady Herald,' another praised, bowing low. Valeria grit her teeth and forced herself to bite back every response she wanted, harder than it had ever been.

"Blessings to you," she said quietly, sparing a momentary and murmured a prayer to her own gods for their good fortune, long life and health... whatever it is they wanted and needed, with each one.

Finally, they saw Mother Gislle, after several minutes of searching, and found her tending to the collected wounded - from this battle, and previous ones. As they drew closer to her, she was speaking with a wounded Inquisition soldier, trying to convince him to accept magical healing from one of the mages that had joined with the Inquisition.

"Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade," Mother Giselle told the young soldier, and after a moment's more resistance, he relented.

 _Perhaps she is someone that can be worked with._ She doubted she'd see eye to eye with any of the Chantry's clergy on magic, but anyone who understood that magic could be used to a good end was someone who she could work with, in this situation.

"Mother Giselle?" She asked, stepping forward and calling out quietly to the woman. The powerless cleric turned and stood, facing her. Valeria closed the distance and offered the Mother her hand. "Captain Valeria Morn." It chaffed to leave off the 'Inquisitor', but she did so nonetheless.

Giselle took her hand after a moment and shook it - her grip was firm, for an older woman, and her hand not as soft as her mostly immaculate and elaborate garb would suggest. This was a woman who probably did get her hands dirty, in tending to these refugees. "You are the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste." It wasn't a question.

"That's what some are calling me," Valeria nodded. "Not all in your Chantry hold to that... interpretation of events."

"No, they do not," Giselle agreed. "Walk with me?" She gestured off to the side, away from the people listening, and after a moment, Valeria nodded. She turned to Solas.

"Can you help with the wounded, Solas?" She asked him, quietly.

"I will do what I can," the elf nodded, and Valeria turned back to the Reverend Mother, following her further from prying ears, though they could only go so far.

"I am aware of the Chantry's denouncement. And I'm familiar with those behind it," Giselle said after a moment's thought to frame what she had to say.

"Peers of yours?"

"Indeed, in some cases. I know many of them well, others only by appearance and name, others merely by reputation," Giselle confirmed. The Reverend spoke with an accent similar to Leliana's - Orlesian - which would place her origin closer to those clerics gathered in Val Royeaux, most likely.

"Knowing them as you do, Reverend Mother," she didn't have to hold to the Chantry's faith to respect the woman's titles, "how much of what they're doing is grandstanding, or a desperate attempt to appear like they're doing something, _anything_ in the face of this crisis?"

"I will not deny that some of them are indeed acting as you say," Giselle nodded, pulling up short to stand by a tree. Valeria stopped walking as well, unable to keep from one more drumming her fingers against her leg.

"My apologies for my- my agitation," Valeria said, after a moment, clenching her hands into fists. "I find that battle has a tendency to... leave me with an excess of energy, in the immediate aftermath." Not even remotely true, but better than explaining her withdrawal symptoms of the Mist, her _need_ , her addiction, her superabundance of nervous energy...

"There is no need to apologize," Mother Giselle said softly. "I will not, as I said, deny that some act purely for their own gain, but the fear that others have, that even the self-interested have, is real. The Divine is dead, the Chantry's guardians in the Templars and Seekers have abandoned their duties and the Veil has been split open, with demons invading the world from seemingly countless rifts. And now, a foreign mage that follows heathen gods appears to be all that stands between them, and destruction."

Giselle looked pointedly at Valeria, the matronly grandmother-esque nature of the woman making Valeria feel a bit like she was back at the orphanage, being scolded or lectured by one of the older Sisters.

"Can you blame them for being afraid?"

 _Well, when you put it like that_. Varric had said something similar, and she knew all about the fear of change, fear of the unknown, during crisis. She'd encountered plenty of both, especially in rural Kantrias in the face of the rise of Industry and modern methods in all fields spreading to even remote parts of the Kingdom.

"No, I cannot. Though I will restate that I am _not_ a mage," Valeria said insistently. "My magic does not come from the Fade, as it does for your mages, or the Aether, as it does for those in my homeland." She still wasn't sure if the Fade was the Aether or not, or some bizzare local manifestation, but either way, she was no mage.

"You used magic - just now, on the battlefield. Word of it will spread, Captain Morn. Though too will spread of the sight you made on the battlefield, garbed entirely in purest white, throwing yourself between the refugees here and attacking apostates. It was an impressive sight."

"That is rather the point of the outfit," Valeria agreed with a slight smile. Even here, where none knew what she was, her garb did its job. "And if word continues to spread that I am a mage, I will keep reminding people that I am not."

"You say you are not a mage, but you do not deny that you serve heathen gods?"

"I come from a land many thousands of miles from Thedas, Reverend Mother - so far that none in my homeland have even had an inkling that Thedas exists. How could I serve your Maker, having never heard of him?" Valeria asked, the words coming out quickly, almost bitingly.

"The Maker is universal," Mother Giselle said in a firm, but even and calm voice, truly confident in her own faith.

"Perhaps so - any god may be worshipped anywhere, after all," Valeria nodded, "But no one in any land I'd heard of before coming here had ever heard of him, so he obviously didn't send us a prophet as he did Andraste for you. I hold to my gods - you may hold to your Maker." _And you can keep your arrogant neglectful god all your own._

Valeria could never imagine herself losing her faith in the Karelist Pantheon, she could never see herself turning to another god or gods. But she could see much to respect in some of the other gods worshipped in Kantrias, or on the Continents of Bayetz and Guayas. The Volutian Trimvirate Tribunal were strict, harsh, but tempered that with a notion of mercy and duty for the least in society that she could see much value in. Salzarius held to a drive and ambition akin to that which undergirded much of Kantrias's progress forward. And so too with others.

But she held little respect for this Maker - some of his teachings were reasonable, but any god that claimed sole credit for creation, that he was the sole, only god to truly exist, and yet offered no aid to his followers, no magic, no guidance.

The Gods she knew did not speak to their followers regularly - they had spoken in the six books that made up the holy canon of the Church much more extensively than the Maker did in the Chant of Light - but they had been known to make their will clearly known, with words and manifestations. As had the gods of other faiths, on Bayetz.

It was rare, but real.

 _The Maker insists they follow, but offers nothing, helps none, and judges all, or so it seems._

"So you do not believe yourself to be the Herald of Andraste?"

"Do you believe me thus? Do you believe that your Maker, or Andraste would send me, of all people?" She was getting tired of putting up with this 'Herald' claim, but she couldn't deny it's utility, as long as it was believed. She had not claimed the title, she did not advance the claim - but if others insisted on foisting it upon her...

Well, if she was to have it, she should make use of it.

"I honestly do not know," Mother Giselle admitted, after a long moment. "I hope so. I hope the Maker would not abandon us against this threat, and I have faith in his creation of the world, his arrangement of all in it - even if you were not directly chosen, I have faith that he assured the right person has come to save us. I have hope that you will be that person."

She paused a moment, looking past Valeria a moment, speaking barely above a whisper. "Hope is what we need - and right now, you offer the hope that will rally people to your banner."

 _Well, I can respect all that._ Hope and Faith. She doubted the Maker had had anything to do with her arrival here, or even her own gods. The Gods rarely got so involved, once they had an established following to act on their behalf. To interfere directly was to invite the same from every god, and then what?

Still, she didn't need to agree with Giselle to know that even that hope would be useful, as she said.

 _The Breach, the Breach. Seal the Breach, and then I can try to find my way home._ And at the very least, she could more openly reject the mantle of Herald.

"I don't need people to rally to my banner - just to help me seal the Breach," Valeria replied.

"That's what they will do." Giselle assured her. "But to do that, you need time - time to find out how to do just that. Time before the rest of Thedas listens to your detractors and decides the best way to respond to the unknown threat of the Inquisition is to destroy it, root and branch."

"Which brings us back to the Grand Clerics and Reverend Mothers in Val Royeaux," Valeria nodded.

"It does. Their strength lies in their unity - they speak with one voice, speaking for much of what remains of the Chantry's leadership. Go to them - challenge them. Assure that you can and will close the Breach."

"Will it really help, if some foreign, heathen 'mage' comes before them?" Valeria asked, skeptically. She doubted that it would help if say... Cassandra did such, had their positions been reversed - Cassandra mysteriously appearing on Bayetz after an explosion destroyed much of the Church's leadership, and then appearing before surviving Karelist leadership, while still following her Maker.

 _Though for something like that to happen, it would have to destroy much of the Old City to do it._ The Grand Vicar and the Conclave of High Priests rarely left the Holy Quarter of the capital's Old City.

Of course, The religious plurality of Kantrias might allow this hypothetical Cassandra a better reception from the surviving Church leadership, if only because the Chuch knew how to relate to people of other faiths. But... equally, were their positions reversed, Cassandra would still recieve a frosty reception, to say the least.

 _Then again, at least she could poke some of the more pompous windbags in the bureaucracy until they give up._ Valeria barely managed to stop herself from smiling openly at that thought. Not the time.

"You do not need to win them all over - merely make them doubt. Convince those that are grandstanding that you will not be so easily beaten, convince those who are afraid that you can close the Breach, and convince those that seek only to be seen as doing something that you _are_ doing something." Giselle advised, and Valeria couldn't disagree with the theory.

"You make it sound so simple," Valeria pointed out.

"If a thing is important, is it ever simple?"

 _I guess you don't get to be a ranking cleric of any sort without a propensity for handing out 'sage advice', wherever you are, whatever gods you worship._

"No, I suppose not."

"You are not without allies in the Chantry. I will go to Haven, and give their names to Sister Leliana, and I will add my voice to those who speak in support of the Inquisition. It is not much-"

"It is more than we've been getting so far," Valeria pointed out. "Your aid would be welcome. You need not worry that you are abandoning these people, either." Valeria told her, looking at the refugees, the few homes that made up the original settlement. "I won't abandon them to the mercies of the _animals_ that attacked them," she snarled the word. "And there are rifts here that only I can close. I am here - so I shall do what I can here, before returning to Haven and thence to Val Royeaux."

She looked back to Mother Giselle, "Will I have time for that?"

"I believe so, as long as you move with dispatch here in the Hinterlands. You may not hold to the Maker, Captain Morn, but I hope you will accept his blessing nonetheless."

"I'll accept a blessing offered by you," Valeria answered honestly. "A woman of conviction, dedication and a desire to see good done in this world - if you offer it on behalf of your Maker, so be it."

Giselle actually chuckled slightly, "You are a woman who chooses your words carefully."

 _I don't want to, but I must_.

Could she keep doing that once she was out of the powder for the mist entirely?

 _ **-Inquisitor Captain-**_

After speaking with Mother Giselle, Valeria had gone around the Crossroads, trying to pick up local intelligence. Corporal Vale, the leader of the Inquisitions limited forces in the region, had told her what little they knew: from a few scattered details from letters or notes, usually found on the dead, they had a general idea of where the bandit Templars and Mages were based.

From that information, she could surmise the mages appeared to be based somewhere in the Witchwood, to the Northwest, and the Templars somewhere to the west, possibly near a waterfall, but it was hard to be sure.

Both groups were quite active near the Crossroads in general, however. Not to mention bandits along the East Road, to the south, and rifts all over the place.

The people of the Crossroads too, were in need of food and critical supplies. The latter she could get by going after the Mages, apparently, as they had hidden supply caches. The former - well, if she could simply restore some order to the region and clear out the threats, the hunters at the Crossroads would be able to take care of the rest.

Valeria didn't know how long the effort would take her, but hopefully not too long. They couldn't linger here too long, but equally, they needed to secure the Hinterlands. She couldn't abandon the civilians here to chaos and devastation at the hands of bandits - whatever uniforms they wore and whatever claims they might make to higher purpose - or endless waves of demons coming forth from the rifts.

Regardless, it would soon be time to set out from the Crossroads, but with the sun being at more or less at its highest point, Valeria had retreated to the path leading back up the ridge to the forward camp. Only once there was no one around her, did Valeria drop to her knees on the grass, pulling her prayer book from a pocket on the inside of her coat and opened it, turning it to the page she sought, laying it out before her.

"I make no claims to Wisdom, beyond that which is granted to all Mortals with ears to listen, and minds to hear. I make no claim to Knowledge, beyond that which is granted to all Mortals with ears to listen and minds to hear. It is only my Will, to follow your Guidance, Karel. Font of Wisdom, you are the Perfect Order, and by your Writ, I shall pursue Order, advance the cause of Civilization over Barbarism and Chaos and ever shall I seek Wisdom. In your name, and in the name of all the Gods that you gave rise to, Amen."

She didn't expect or ask for direct guidance, or even a sign. That was not the Karelist Way. Guidance was to be found within, through understanding the teachings of the Gods, through feeling, however faintly, the will of the gods through her connection to them via her magic. But to pray was to honor the gods, and to focus your mind.

Before she could move onto the next prayer, Valeria got the strong sense she was being watched. She'd come away here, hidden from view to avoid causing issues for the Inquisition. She turned her head, starting to stand up, and saw Cassandra standing next to a tree, looking pensive.

"Your prayer - is it a common one, among your people?"

"Less common than others, but far from abnormal," Valeria said, closing the prayer book and slipping it back into her pocket.

"I did not intend to interrupt," Cassandra said, sounding apologetic at interrupting her prayers, "Varric merely said you walked off, and I wanted to be sure of where you were."

"I should have said something, I suppose," Valeria allowed. "I didn't want to cause problems for the Inquisition. It is bad enough, I suppose, that the 'Herald of Andraste' is known, at least by some, to follow 'heathen gods'," even quoting Mother Giselle, and others, to refer to the Pantheon, to Karel, Syrestara, Vitralia and the rest as 'heathen gods', as if they were mere pagan deities, burned at her, the words feeling like acid on her tongue.

"I did not want to be seen by others praying, and create more issues. I did not ask to be seen as Herald of Andraste, chosen by your Maker, but it a useful belief for others to have, for the Inquisition." Valeria gave voice to thoughts she'd kept quiet. She hadn't actually asked Cassandra how she felt about the subject, wanting to avoid the question, but now she wanted to know, now that the question had been raised.

"I do not demand an answer, but I will ask - do you think me a Herald, sent by your Maker or your Andraste, to save you all?"

Cassandra Pentaghast appeared to be a woman as devout as she was, but in the face of what had happened, the death of the Divine, the Breach - did she have her doubts? Valeria wanted to understand this woman who was at once alike and unalike with her.

"I... I do not know. I think you were sent to help us - I hope you were," Cassandra said carefully, perhaps unknowingly echoing Mother Giselle's words. "But the Maker's help takes many forms. It is not always clear what it is, or who it truly benefits, or how."

"I have heard some of the Chantry sisters in Haven speak that the 'Maker works in mysterious ways,'" Valeria summarized, and Cassandra nodded.

"We have only our faith to guide us - and I do not believe that the Maker would abandon us, at this dire hour." Cassandra said. "Why he would choose you in particular, a he- follower of other gods... I do not know."

 _Probably because he didn't choose me._ "Perhaps I was simply, somehow, at the right place, at the right time," she smiled slightly, suddenly channeling Kyseen for a moment, unsure why the words came to mind even as she said them - "perhaps I was simply the best he could do on such short notice." Cassandra grimaced at her words, looking away and Valeria sighed.

"My apologies - I did not mean to mock your Faith." She didn't even understand why the idea occurred to her, apart from perhaps missing Kyseen's biting wit, her irreverent and flippant sarcasm. The assassin would probably be having a much easier time of this - a consummate liar when she needed to be, she could probably convince everyone she was a devout follower of the Maker within a few days.

 _That or she would piss Cassandra off enough to get killed before she could even slow the growth of the Breach._

"Varric has already said as much. And others, of course, have said much worse." Cassandra looked back at her, thoughtful. "You do not think yourself chosen by Andraste, you have said that much. Do you believe that your gods chose you for this?"

"It's not impossible," Valeria admitted. "Perhaps Karel, or Vitralia or one of the others knew what was coming, and chose me to deal with this - but it would be arrogant to think myself the best suited for this task, would it not? I can think of Inquisitors back home much better suited to the... subtler aspects of the Inquisition, or even alatrists who would do better at this task. Much better, in all honesty."

"But you are the one that is here," Cassandra said. "If the Maker or Andraste did not choose you, in your mind, then surely your gods did. Why else would you be here?"

"Cosmic accident? Magical mishap? Perhaps I activated some sort of magical trap when I tried to disenchant that coven's artifact," Valeria suggested theories. "Or even activated its true purpose - they were suspected of meddling in forbidden dimensional magics." She shrugged, "I will even allow that perhaps your Maker or his Prophet did indeed choose me. But I do not think it likely that I was chosen. That is not - that is not how people understand the Divine, in the land I come from."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes a moment, speaking slowly, as if unsure. "I... do not understand."

"We do not merely follow different Faiths, follow different gods, Cassandra," Valeria said, gesturing between the two of them. "We think of the divine very differently. I do not profess to understand the _Chant of Light_ or the Chantry's teachings perfectly - I haven't been here long enough for that, obviously." She gave a hollow chuckle, and paused, grasping wordlessly for the right way to say it, without offending Cassandra.

She did not want to alienate her, for many reasons.

"But, from what I understand, your Make is seen as... all powerful. The creator of the world, and all within it - even the Old Gods of Tevinter are merely powerful spirits he created who turned on him." It was a convenient fiction, she supposed, to co-opt the Old Gods that the Maker's faithful had opposed, by claiming them as renegade spirits. But she rather doubted that mere spirits could have held the faith of an entire empire for centuries.

"Everything happens according to his will, his plan, or at least with him allowing it, correct?"

"That is... not an inaccurate summation," Cassandra allowed her. "The Maker gave his Second Children - mortals - free will to allow them to choose to do right or not, to act in accordance with him or not. But all is ultimately in the Maker's hands." She seemed to be choosing her words as carefully as Valeria was.

 _Here we are, two devout women, bound to very different faiths, seeking to avoid creating issue with the other, tiptoeing around our different beliefs._

It was almost funny, in a way.

"And that, Cassandra - that is something I find difficulty wrapping my mind around. Neither the Karelist Pantheon, or any other pantheon or god I have heard of - and I am familiar, in passing at least, with the teachings of dozens of faiths - on Bayetz or beyond has ever claimed that they are all powerful. That they are the sole creators of all, that they are the sole god, that they are capable of - or even would - take an active role in the world, to _pick_ a chosen one. They will find prophets, to pass on their teachings, found Faiths in their name, as Karel and the other Gods appeared before the Sacred Eleven, but beyond that..." Valeria shrugged helplessly.

"We who follow their teachings can rely on their word, on our magic, if we are blessed to channel their power, but we cannot ask or expect to be chosen, or granted direct intervention." She went on, watching Cassandra carefully.

"That is..." Cassandra started, then she made a small noise - not of disgust, like she was prone to, except perhaps directed at herself. "There is more to say on this matter, questions I have, things about you and what you say that I cannot understand. But I am not sure I can discuss this more right now. You have said much that needs further thinking on."

"I am not here to try to convert you, Cassandra." Valeria said honestly. Though she wished she could - the Karelist Inquisition could use someone like Cassandra, and it would make her life easier here, if she was a missionary, if she could convert the people to Karelism - or even if they simply had a more rational, comprehensible religion. "Your Maker's teachings are alien to me, and I cannot hold them as true and hold to my own faith, but you are only answerable to your own sense of the divine, your own faith, your own belief in the Maker. I merely ask that you do not try to convert me, in turn."

"I do not seek to - I will not deny that I wish it was possible, that I would prefer to see you following the Maker's will rather than something... something else, but I suspect," Cassandra smiled slightly, "I suspect that you are too stubborn a woman for that."

"And you aren't too stubborn yourself?" Valeria asked with a smile of her own.

"I have been accused of being too strong in my resolve before," Cassandra agreed, still smiling a little, and then her expression grew grim again "but my mine can be changed, at least. I have long since accepted your innocence in the creation of the Breach. I was... wrong, to think you guilty on merely the mark, and your survival. I would apologize for my accusations."

Valeria shook her head, "There is no need to apologize. You had good cause to think I had done it. Were our positions reversed, I would likely have assumed as you did, at first." She inhaled a long, deep breath through her nose, then let it out just as slowly. "If you want to discuss The Maker with me more, and are willing to hear me question him and the _Chant_ , I am not averse to continuing that conversation at a later time. I too have many questions."

She gestured to the Crossroads, "But we do have much to do."

"Indeed we do," Cassandra agreed. "After you," she stepped aside to let Valeria past her, and Valeria did so, unable to stop from smiling a little again.

She'd been afraid of some theological argument that might alienate the other woman, but despite her conviction, she seemed willing to have a rational, calm discussion. A discussion Valeria was yearning to have with _someone_ here in Thedas, and had been afraid of causing problems by having it. The Breach did come first, before her petty confusion.

But at least she'd found one person she might be able to talk about it with.

That that person was Cassandra was an added bonus. The Seeker was so much more than her handsome appearance, but that didn't change that Valeria liked looking at that as well.

 _Alariesti teaches one must always acknowledge beauty when you see it._ And that was one of the teachings of the patron deity of Love, Lust, Marriage and Beauty that Valeria had never had any problem with.

With that pleasant thought passing through her mind, Valeria steeled herself for yet more battles to come. The Hinterlands were full of bandits to slay, rifts to close, and people in need of help, in need of Order.


End file.
